


Catching the Cub

by ZeemonLii



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, lion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeemonLii/pseuds/ZeemonLii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spidy and Kraven clash and Peter comes out of it worse for wear. On the run and badly hurt with poison coursing through his veins, will Peter escape the hunter? Or will Kraven bag another trophy for his wall? Bad summary but I was trying not to give anything away. I hope you read anyway. Would love some reviews.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one from Spider-Man. I am just a fan who writes fics. I make NO money from this. Please don't sue.

I’ve been stabbed. Oh god I’ve been stabbed!

Peter stumbled, sagging against the alley wall as he tried to catch his breath and not pass out from the pain that infused his body. He clutched at his wounded right shoulder with a moan unable to block out the agony inside him. Despite his best efforts to stop the bleeding, his life was still leaking slowly through his fingers, soaking into his costume.

The bleeding wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. A sob escaped the boy. He tried to push himself away from the wall, but a sudden bout of dizziness made his slump back against it. He needed to move, to run. That man was still chasing him. He needed to- but he felt so sick.

God someone please help. The boy never imagined something could hurt this much. His shoulder burned like it was on fire and it wasn’t the burn of just being wounded. It was the burn of infection, or worse, poison.

Peter shuddered, half at the thought and half at the heat that was blazing inside him. I need to move. But the world seemed to be spinning around him. The next thing the boy knew rain was splashing against his face as he lay on his back staring blearily up at the sky. He felt so hot. He couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, he rolled onto his side, curling around his pain. He just couldn’t catch his breath.

A sudden scuffing sound startled Peter and he glanced up in alarm. God no. Please no. Not him. The boy desperately tried to pull himself up. He managed to get to his knees when a loud clattering made him flinch away and onto his feet, adrenaline washing hot through his blood. Please.

The brunet leaned heavily back against a dumpster, panting. He needed to move, but his body wouldn’t obey him. There was more noise. Too close. He couldn’t pinpoint- Something brushed against his leg. Fuck! He cried out in fear, jerking back against the dumperster hard enough that the screech of metal on concrete split the air. Then there was silence.

Peter listened hard, trying to quiet his panting breathes. There was nothing. He closed his eyes and listened harder. Nothing… Nooothin- There! His head snapping around just in time to see a furry tail whip around the alley corner and disappear.

A little uncontrollably giggle escaped Peter. Just a raccoon. Just a stupid fucking raccoon. The giggled turned into a hysterical laugh. He couldn’t stop. He just laughed and laughed and laughed until he was gasping for breath, tears flowing from his eyes, mixing with the rain running down his face. He felt like he was suffocating. The cloth of his mask tightening around his throat. Clogging his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

In a mindless panic the teen tore off his mask and flung it away, his instincts getting the better of him. He leaned forward, his hips braced against the dumpster behind him, and closed his eyes. Breathe. Just breathe.

Oh god. Peter wrapped his free arm around his aching belly, looking groggily up into the cloudy night sky as he panted. The cool rain felt good as it splashed against his feverish skin. He closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to focus on the feel of the rain rather than the pain and heat and panic coursing through his body. He knew he couldn’t run anymore. He could barely stand. Fighting was definitely out of the question. The only thing left to him was to hide, but where? Dumpster?

Peter looked over his shoulder at the large metal canister at his back. No. It was already covered in his blood. The hunter would find him in seconds even if he had the strength left to burrow down into the trash, but did he have any other option? Peter dazedly looked around the little alley then his eyes locked onto the ground. Manhole. That would have to work.

It hurt to lever the heavy metal cover up and Peter almost gave up, but then with a hiss and a belch of foul air the lid came free and somehow he managed to slide it out of the way. He peered blearily down into the stench and darkness of the hole wondering if this was a good idea, but it wasn’t like he really had a choice. At the very least the hunter would lose his scent in the filthy place.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wishing his head would stop spinning before lowering himself down into the warm, sticky air of the sewers. With only one working hand still slick with his own blood it was hard going. He tried to be careful as he moved down the ladder into the deeper darkness, but he slipped halfway down. He felt his stomach drop as his hand missed its mark, his fingertips brushing against the metal rung as he desperately tried to get a hold then he was falling through the air.

Peter slammed into the concrete below and just lay there for several minutes, unmoving. After awhile little disjointed thoughts slowly started to creep around the darkness of his mind again. He hurt so bad. He was so hot. He wanted to give up. He wanted to just lay there. He wanted to cry. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be home. He wanted this to be a nightmare. He couldn’t catch his breath. He didn’t want to die.

Somehow Peter dragged himself to his feet again and, leaning one shoulder against the wall, took a staggering step forward. He was running on instinct more than anything now… and that last thought.

I don’t want to die.

He took another step, steadier now.

I don’t want to die!

He moved forward through the oily, black atmosphere with only the sound of sewage bubbling along beside him in a small canal and his own breathing to accompany him. The thick air was burning the back of his throat and making his eyes water, but he still moved forward. His body seemed to disconnect from his mind, moving on its own as his thoughts faded away until there was only one left.

Don’t die.

Peter had no way of knowing how long he trudged on like that, mindlessly plodding one foot down in front of the other, but eventually his body gave out on him too. He was so exhausted. So hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to lift another foot. To take another step. His legs trembled with strain as he sagged against the moist, smelly wall, his gasping breaths rattling in his throat. He pressed his forehead to the warm, wet cement with a moan. The hand clutching his wound still felt wet, but he couldn’t tell if it was with his blood or just the rain soaked fabric of his costume he was feeling. It was too dark.

The boy dimly realized his body was moving on its own again, moving up the wall instead of forward. He was barely conscious as his hand, feeling blindly in the dark, found where the ceiling and wall met. His body started doing something again, but his mind was too tired to care what it was. Then there was a small safe place for him. He didn’t know how or why, but it was what his instincts were telling him so he crawled in and curled up in a miserable little ball. A fraction of a second later he had fallen into unconsciousness.

Not so far away the hunter crouched by a splash of blood, a smile slashing across his lips. He knew his prey was close. Now it was time for the hunt to really begin. 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I’m being a bad author. I know all of you out there who love Alien or Ancient or Innocent or any of my other fics are probably thinking ‘what the hell are you freaking doing?!’ but, well, I’ve been nursing this fic idea for a while now and just figured out how I was going to start it so I figured I better get it down now before inspiration deserted me again. Please don’t hate me and I really hope you all enjoy. Oh, and I love comments as always!


	2. Hunter

Kraven crouched in the corner of a dusky alleyway, surveying the scene before him. The big man’s fingers unconsciously kneaded at a bit of cloth between his hands – the mask he had found just moments before – as his sharp eyes picked out details in the dark. A feral grin spread over his lips at what he saw. His quarry was close. He could smell it. And wounded as it was, creature had to be slowing down. It would break soon. Perfect.  

The man glanced down at the mask in his hands, his fingers spreading over the cloth so bits of red and black shown through them. It was quiet a prize. Now he needed to find the rest. Kraven stood and padded silently forward through the night as he followed the dark splashes of blood that had been spilt upon the ground. So close. There was no way his prey could run much farther in it’s condition. He would find it soon.

The moon was the man’s only light, but that was just fine with him. It shone big and bright this night, illuminating the wet drops of blood so they looked like puddles of liquid silver. Kraven greatly preferred the moon to the big city’s glowing neon and constant noise. So distracting. But back here along the alleys and other secret spots of the city nature had started to take the night back. He could see plants peeping through cracks in the pavement and smell the sea in the wind even though the actual ocean was many miles off. It was almost quiet... for a city.

A soft, guttural rumble ahead of Kraven made the human hunter pick up his pace. The Russian could just make out the shape of his large, four-legged companion several yards in front of him where the golden beast had stopped to sniff the ground.

“What did you find Kijani?” Kraven said as he came up beside the large male lion and stopped to have a look at what had caught his friend’s attention.

The lion’s golden eyes flicked up at him, flashing in the dark, as a low growl rumbled from its throat. It’s tail swished in the air once then it turned its eyes back to the ground and it pawed at the round metal disk in front of it.

“Ah yes…” Kraven crouched down, reaching for the uncovered manhole, but he paused. “But this is a tricky beast,” he said, more to himself then to the lion as he let his gaze slid over the blood spilt on the ground to land on the dumpster.  

 “The trail is here too my friend,” the man said, standing to walk cautiously towards the dumpster. The lion watched silently, it’s eyes piercing the darkness, alert for any danger. Kraven was grateful for such a strong companion. Tracking on this particular hunt had been troublesome since the prey ran along rooftops and swung through the air of this city-jungle without a thought, breaking even the strongest of trails. Kijani had been vital help, following the creatures scent as the Russian himself could not in such a smelly place. Even so, Kraven still had his pride. This was his hunt, his prey. While the lion had been helpful, this would be Kraven’s battle to finish in the end. He could feel his heart beat faster in excitement at the thought. As worthy as this prey had been all hunts had to come to an end, but this end would be glorious.

Reaching the side of the dumpster, Kraven grasped the lid in one hand, his other snaking down to grip the hilt of one of the knifes on his belt. He licked his lips, his feet sliding into a firmer stance as he readied himself for battle. He tensed throwing the lid open in one fluid motion.

“Ha!” he yelled, raising the knife, blood pounding in his ears, but there was nothing there. The lid of the dumpster hung in the air a second longer then slammed back against the brick wall behind it startling Kijani. The lion let a soft growl rumbling from his chest and he paced irritably around the manhole, working off a little nervous energy. The big cat had about as much love for the big city as Kraven did himself. The only reason either of them even set foot in such a deplorable place was this very special prey they now hunted. Once the chase was over they would away again to Africa with a quick stop in the wilds of Canada or wherever else Kraven took a fancy to while in the Northern Hemisphere. One of the perks of owning your own private jet was you dictated the schedule and no one else.

Kraven sighed, disappointment sour in his thoughts at the sorrowful lack of quarry in front of him as he re-sheathed his knife.

The lion huffed, impatient with his human companion’s dawdling.

“Alright,” Kraven waved a hand to his partner, his eyes still searching the smelly trash before him for any clues. “You were right. I just had to make sure.”

Kijani huffed again and padded over to the human, curious despite himself. He pushed himself up onto his hind legs, his forepaws braced against the dumpster as he looked into it’s open maw. The lion only took a second before he thrust itself away and circled back to the manhole.

“Okay. I’m coming,” Kraven sighed, moving back to the lion’s side. He knelt down, plucking a glow stick out of one of the many pockets on his belt as he went. In one swift motion he snapped the little stick and shook it to life before dropping it down into the darkness of the manhole.

The hunter watched the little orange light fall with a critical eye until it clattered onto the floor of the sewers several yards beneath him. The light barely illuminated the cavernous space, but Kraven had seen enough. The Russian quickly pulled another of the glow sticks out – this one on a looped cord – snapping it as he went and held the new light to the metal rungs leading down. They were wet with something and it wasn’t just water. Kraven reached down to the first rung, dipping his finger in the liquid. He rubbed it between his fingers and was pleased. It was thick and red. Blood.

“Good work Kijani,” Kaven said, wiping the blood upon his pants and ruffling the lion’s mane affectionately with his other hand. “Now I must go alone,” he added, throwing the glow stick’s cord over his head so the light hung around his neck like a glowing pendent as he moving to lower himself into the darkness of the manhole.

The lion was rumbling it’s discontent, pacing around the entrance of the manhole.

“Oh Kijani stop worrying,” Kraven chuckled, patting his friends back once more before starting the long climb down. “I will be back with the prize soon.”

Kraven licked his lips, feeling excitement build within him again as he descended farther into the sewers. This prey had certainly been a worthy one, giving him a long, hard chase, testing every skill he had, but tonight the hunt would end. The Spider-man would be his.

 

 

**TBC...**

YAAAAAAAAAAAY! I finally got something new up! Okay, okay. I know it's short... Okay REALLY short, but I really, really wanted to get _something_ up before I went of to no-electricity land again. Hope you like. Would love some reviews!


	3. Hemorrhage

Kraven landed at the bottom of the ladder, wincing as his heavy hiking boots thudded softly on the ground below him. He mentally cursed the city again for forcing him to wear shoes when he would have preferred to run around barefoot, but the unfortunate fact of broken glass, cement and metal forced his hand. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was immune to injury or infection. Oh, but how he missed the open savanna....

Kraven shook his head, forcing the grievance and pining from his mind as he focused on the task at hand, his eyes scanning the rank passage before him. The walkway continued in front of him with the ladder up to the surface at his back and a canal of murky sewer water to his left flowing through a grate and disappearing behind him. There was no way for his prey to go, but forward. That, at least, was a certainty. Blood smeared the wall to the Russian’s right, shining black in the orange light of the glow stick. With the thick smell of the sewer overpowering anything else, the trail of blood would have to be his guide.

The man padded down the tunnel, holding the glow stick before him as he followed the trail. Even in this kind of darkness it was not hard to track the beast. There was so much blood. A long nearly solid smear decorated the wall, accompanied by smaller splatters ever so often on the ground. The path was so clear. Too clear.

Kraven paused and pressed his hand to the damp brickwork, thinking. The bloody streak along the wall barely reached his waist height. Even so he knew it had to have been caused by the creature, but surely it hadn’t meant to leave such a clear trail. It knew he was hunting it so why...

Kraven frowned. He had gotten too wrapped up in the thrill of the chase. He needed to step back and think. If the creature had really been losing this much blood it would have been dead by now. Something he didn’t understand was going on here and he did not like it. Had the creature found help? Was this a trap, a false trail? Had he, the hunter, become the hunted?

Lifting the glow stick a little higher, the Russian sighted along the wall, down the bloody line until it disappeared into the darkness. This was too easy. It had to be a trick of some sort.

Kraven crept forward, weary now as he followed the blood, but nothing happened until, suddenly, the trail ended. Undeterred, the man waked past the break, trying to see if the trail began again, but it never did. Confused, he retraced his steps. How could such a strong trail end so abruptly...? Unless it really was a false trail to begin with. Cursing under his breath, Kraven nearly stormed back to Kijani to start the hunt above ground again, but something made him pause. He hesitated at the end of the blood trail, studying the break. The smear cut off so cleanly then there was nothing else on the wall within the glow of his light but... there was also a large puddle of blood on the floor, stretching nearly a foot in diameter, right at the end of the end of the smear. Something that bled that much didn’t just disappear.

Kraven bent down, dipping his fingers into the pool before bringing them up to his nose, trying to determine if the liquid was really blood. The stench of the sewers kept him from discerning the scent. He was about to take a chance and taste the liquid when a sudden drip smacked into his face, right under his left eye. The man startled, instinctively whipping the moisture away with the back of his hand and his eyes caught the dark streak that was left behind. He took his fingers and made a second streak under the first with the mystery liquid he had thought was blood. They matched.

Kraven glanced up into the darkness above him. Something was up there. He couldn’t see it, smell it, or hear it over the bubbling of sewage, but he knew it was there.

In two steps Kraven was at the wall. A few more seconds and his nimble fingers had found handholds in the crumbling brick and he started to pull himself up. The hunter was cautious, taking the climb slow. He was positive the creature was down here in the sewers with him now, and he knew he had injured it, but he also knew a wounded beast was at it’s most dangerous when cornered. There was no reason to rush this. One way or another the creature would be his tonight.

Reaching and pulling himself a few more feet up the wall Kraven suddenly found a handprint of blood right in front of his face. He glanced up, his eyes searching the wall... and then he saw another – a dark splash against the wall a couple yards above him at the edge of his little ball of light. The man quickly climbed up to it and found the print was exactly like the first, but oddly it was of a left hand not a right. Kraven thought he had only wounded the creature’s right side, then the realization hit him. It was not that his prey was hurt on it’s left side. The blood had come from it holding it’s injured right shoulder. The Russians lips twisted in a slight smile, pleased with himself. He was not used to hunting humanoids, but now he knew he had to be on the right trail.

Despite himself, Kraven started scaling the wall faster, excitement hot in his blood. His heart raced and his breathing quickening in exhilaration at such a wonderful hunt. He hadn’t felt like this in years. He slipped his knife out of it’s holster as he moved, lifting it to clench it between his teeth, freeing his hand once more to climb. The knife he had stabbed the creature with before had been very special, nothing like the blade he now held in his mouth. That knife had a little something special worked into the blade. Something meant to make his prey sleep. Too bad his grip had slipped on the creatures blood when he had stabbed it and he lost that blade in its flesh. He hadn’t found that knife tracking the beast, but he knew by the amount of blood the being was losing his prey had pulled it out and dropped it somewhere. That blade was probably lost to the city forever. Kraven sighed, allowing himself a second of sorrow over the loss of such a fine knife, before focusing on his prey again.

There. There was… something up there hidden at the edge of the darkness. Kraven noted the crumbling ceiling come into view, but his attention was locked on the thing in front of him. It... it looked like a grey blob at first then the details slowly began to solidify as he and his glow stick got closer.

Nestled in the seam where the wall and ceiling met was a cocoon. It looked incredibly natural in the city’s rotten underbelly – something a spider might weave around its prey – except this one was big. Really big. Even man-sized. It would have to be once huge spider to catch such prey... or a colony. Kraven felt a flicker of fear flare up within him for a second, but he knew this formation wasn’t from a gigantic arachnid hunting the New York sewer system, or even a colony of the creatures like what was sometimes found in his adopted home of Africa. The blood soaked into the strands of webbing gave it away.

The hunter licked his lips, adrenaline heightening his senses as satisfaction settled warm within his belly. Here it was finally. His strange, wonderful prey that had giving him such a chase. Kraven pulled himself up beside the cocoon, drawing the knife from between his teeth. It was almost sad to have to end this hunt, but the end had certainly come.

The man pressed the tip of the blade into the side of the cocoon feeling the taunt strands snap and give. He grinned wolfishly, pressing the knife in deeper...

 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... So it seems like this fic’s chapters are just going to be shorter then my normal 10-to-15-pages-a-chapter epics like ‘Alien,’ but it seems to be working well so I’m not going to sweat it. I figure as long as I’m over 1000 words a chapter and the flow is good, I’m good. Plus it easier to tackle when I don’t have a lot of time :) Anyway hope you like my little cliffy (hee, hee I’m so evil) and I would love some reviews.


	4. Hollow

The moment had come. Kraven could feel it, but still he wanted the moment to last. He wanted to see the beast’s face before he took it.

Pulling the knife free, the man slashed at the side of the cocoon with the blade. He repeated the motion over the same area, cutting shallowly, but making progress into the belly of the cocoon. He had no way of knowing how thick the webbing was around the creature and he didn’t want to damage it further if he could help it. Not yet anyway.

The Russian slashed again then paused as the sides of the deep gash he had made in the cocoon peeled away from each other. There was a sudden snap as the webbing gave. Kraven grinned wider, almost manically. He could see the body now, dark against the white, held in place by a few final fragile layers of webbing that strained to hold the creatures weight.

Snap.

Blood dripped steadily down, wrung from the strands as they were pulled taunt by the weight.

Snap-

The knife clattered to the floor. Kraven stared in shock, his stomach dropping out of his former excitement as the creature’s head lolled back, obviously unconscious or dead, out of the cocoon. The rest of the body was still held in place by the remaining webbing, but that face. He had seen it’s face. It was a boy. A child. A cub.

Another snap, startled Kraven out of his shock as the body started to slip from the safe confines of the webbing. The man lunged forward as the strands finally gave, spitting open and the body plunged downward towards the unforgiving cement below.

The hunter grabbed the falling body out of the air with one arm, bracing for a weight that didn’t come. The boy was light! He couldn’t weight more then one, one-ten.

Kraven hefted the body into a better position, his left arm wrapped around the boy’s waist as his right clung to the wall. The teen grunted in pain at the new position and Kraven felt the unconscious boy stir for a second then go limp as he fell into unconsciousness again.

The Russian felt numb, unsure of what to do now. He hadn’t expected the Spider-man to be so... so young... Or so human. He thought the creature hid itself behind a mask and covered its body with cloth completely for a reason. With its strength and speed the hunter had never imagined it would be a human. It had talked like a human and walked like a human, but Kraven knew from experience that did not mean it was human. He had met many things in his life that seemed to be human, but were not, but this… it was just a boy. A dying boy…

Kraven carefully slid down the wall with the boy in tow, jumping the last few yards to land softly on the ground. He immediately laid the child down, feeling like he was doing something bad by just touching the teen, and sat back staring as the kid moaned softly then settled, breathing hard.

This couldn't be right... But there was no mistaking it. This boy had been his prey. The child was still wearing the ragged remains of the costume. Shit.

Uncertain, the Russian leaned over the body, his hands in his lap as he looked over the prone figure in front of him. Could the boy really be human?

Kraven frowned, feeling sick as his eyes lingered on the ragged wound in the kids shoulder. It was obviously still bleeding. The ground was already wet with new smears of the red stuff. The child couldn’t afford to lose any more. His breathing was already too labored for the man's liking as it was.

With a new goal in mind, Kraven scooped his knife up off the floor as his other hand fished a roll of bandages out of his belt. He knelt over the boy, lowering the knife to cut the dirty costume away from the wound.

The man paused when his patient gasped, feeling the dried blood that had plastered the cloth to the skin around the wound pull at the injury. The boy yelped as Kraven tried again and jerked violently away, his eyes blinking open.

Kraven froze as the kid did the impossible and blinked several more times, obviously conscious again despite the tranquilizer coursing through his blood. Whether the child had something in his eyes or if they just weren’t focusing well the Russian didn’t know. What he did know was the way the teen’s eyes widened with fear as soon as they landed on him. Crap.. Kraven could think of nothing he could do or say that might put the boy at ease so he tried for something simple.

“Uh... Hi?”

The boy opened his mouth and screamed. Really screamed. It was a sound full of terror and pain and it made the man wince despite himself. No matter what the boy really was, he certainly feared like a human.

In retrospect, Kraven didn’t know what other response he could have expected. He must have looked like some kind of demon to the boy - his face lit with an orange glow from beneath, a knife glinting in his hand, blood slick on his skin... not the best first impression, or even the best third impression. Dammit.

“Now boy-“ Kraven started to say something he hoped would have sounded reassuring (even though he wasn’t sure what it would have been), but the kid lashed out instinctively, his kick catching Kraven right in the gut.

The hunter folded, the air rushing from his lungs. He tried to gasp, his hands clutching his belly. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to knock the wind out of Kraven the Hunter. He cursed himself as he finally managed to suck in a lungful of air, anger seeping into his thoughts, but when he glanced up at the boy again his anger quickly turned to pity.

The child was trying to crawl away, but he was too weak to get up onto all fours. His body wouldn’t listen to him even though he was struggling so desperately hard. All he could manage was a sort of slide-flop motion as he held his wounded arm protectively to his front and even that was not long lasted. The kid had only managed a few feet before his strength gave out and he collapsed, sprawling on the filthy ground with a whimper.

Kraven could see the boy shivering even from where he was and his brow furrowed in concern. The Russian took one more deep breath, relishing the ability to use his lungs again then slowly moved towards the kid.

The child was immediately aware of his approach, but all he could manage was a whimper, tears dripping down his cheeks. He was obviously still terrified, but too weak to do anything about it.

“Easy boy,” Kraven said softly, holding his hands out in front of him in a universal sign of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid didn’t seem to take any comfort from those. Instead his shoulders started jerking as if he was struggling to push himself up, but his limbs just wouldn’t obey.

“Whoa, whoa,” Kraven hurried to kneel by the kid’s side, reaching down to halt the struggles that were not only sapping the kid's strength, but also quickening flow of the precious little blood the teen still had in his body.

“Calm little cub,” Kraven whispered, gently brushing a lock of hair out of the kid’s eyes to feel his forehead for fever.

The boy cringed away from the touch, his tired, sunken eyes locked on Kraven’s face.

The Russian tried to smile, feeling suddenly very old. “If you keep struggling-ah!”

Sudden pain shot through Kraven’s forearm making him yelp in surprise. He tried to pull him arm away from whatever was hurting it, but the limb seemed to be weighted down by something. It took the hunter a moment more to realize the boy had bitten him. He glanced down to see the child still had teeth sunk into the flesh of his arm, unwilling to let go even as the rest of the kid’s body lay limp on the floor too weak to move.

“What the fuc- What are you doing?! Let go!” Kraven demanded, trying to pull away. “I’m trying to help you!”

The boy just blinked at him, his too-wide eyes showing white all around, his pupils so dilated with pain and fear his honey-brown irises had turned black. Kraven realized then the kid was not comprehending a word he was saying. The child only saw threat and reacted. Kraven had seen men dragged to the edge like this before in one battle or another. To that place where thought disappeared in the face of danger and fear and pain, leaving only the desperate need to survive behind. The boy was no more than that now. Kraven could see it in his eyes. His empty, hollow eyes. The mind was gone. Only instinct remained.

And Kraven knew he was the cause of it... The man felt shame at the thought. He had not set out to harm a child. No, he had thought he was hunting some great beast that was trying to pass as human, but this...

Kraven closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose as he tried to shut out the pain. The boy was still very strong for being so close to death. The little human teeth dug into his arm hurt a lot, but that was not what mattered. Kraven needed both arms if he was to help.

“Boy I need you to let go,” the man said gently, trying to pull his arm away from the kid’s mouth. The teen just bit down harder.

Kraven grunted, feeling his flesh tear further. He let out a deep sigh, trying to close himself off from the new pain. “Calypso give me patience,” he whispered softly, almost like a prayer, before gritting his teeth and reaching over with his free hand to feel for the hinge in the kid’s jaw. The boy immediately started growling at the touch and the rumbles just got louder as Kraven pressed down on that soft spot, trying to force the teen’s mouth open, but it just didn’t work. The teen held on like a little terrier even though the Russian could feel the bone start to creak and give under the pressure of his fingers. The man sighed, easing up when it was obvious that approach wasn’t going to work. He didn’t was to break the child’s jaw and clearly the boy wasn’t going to let go that easily. The poor kid was putting everything he had left into holding onto what he must have thought of as ‘his attacker's’ arm. The man knew fighting the boy would just make him hold on stronger, putting all he had in this one last act of defiance. Kraven could have made the teen scream and in doing so the kid would have to open his mouth, letting the arm go, but the man didn’t want to hurt the child. He doubted the boy’s body would be able to take any more damage and survive, but what else would work?

Kraven let out a soft huff, quietly appraising the panting child beside him. The Russian wasn’t much of a fatherly sort... but he did know how to care for a wounded animal. He had been the one who had nursed Kijani back to health when he found the little cub left for dead by his pride after being kicked in the head by an antelope. Kraven knew if he could endure raising a baby lion and all the bites and scratches that came from that, he could do this too. First the child had to feel safe.

With a few creative contortions, which allowed the boy to keep a hold of his arm, the man managed to gather the wounded teen in his lap. The child was alarmed at first, but quickly quieted as Kraven brushed his free hand through the kid’s hair, whispering soft nothings meant to calm as he held the child close to his chest. The teen’s eyes drooped as he relaxed into the warmth and comfort of another body. Soon enough Kraven felt the grip on his arm ease then let go completely.

The Russian breathed a sigh of relief, then was startled when the boy tried to push himself up, but his legs collapsed and he fell back against Kraven’s chest again with a cry, clutching his wounded arm.

“Easy kid,” the man said gently, letting himself wrap his arms around the small, trembling body before him.

The boy pressed his face into the Russian’s chest in response and simply started bawling, all of the emotional stress of the day being violently expelled in a rush or tears and sobs.

Oh god. This was too much. Kraven had never felt so deplorable in his whole life. The man stared straight ahead of him, his back tense as a board, having no clue what to do now. He was not the sort of person others used as a shoulder to cry on, but the boy...

Kraven forced himself to relax and cradled the child’s body, rocking him gently. “Shh boy. Shh. It’s okay.”

The teen quieted quickly and for a second Kraven thought he was doing a good job of comforting the boy, but then he realized the child had passed out.

Kraven leaned back, holding the limp body out before him and was shocked to find he was now covered in the boy’s blood. The kid let out a low moan, his breath rattling disturbingly in his chest. The child was far too pale and clammy for the man's taste, sweat glistening unhealthily on his skin, turning his brown hair nearly black . Kraven could feel the fever burning within the kid even now. The boy's condition was just getting worse.

The kid gave a sudden weak cough, snapping Kraven out of his horrified daze. The man shook his head, knowing simply bandaging the boy’s wounds wouldn’t be enough anymore.

The Russian stood, lifting the child in his arms and started down the tunnel as fast as he could without jostling the boy too much. He moved faster, registering how hard the teen was struggling to breath. The child was fading so fast. Too fast.

Kraven picked up speed until he was running full tilt down the tunnel, the boy drifting further away from life with ever second that passed.

No. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right! The kid couldn’t just die like this. Not like this.

“Kijani! KIJANI!” Kraven roared up the passageway as he ran, straining his ears for a reply.

His heart seemed to stop as he waited, panting for breath, his legs pumping under him as the seconds stretching until they felt like hours then the lion roared back.

Relief flooded into Kraven’s at the sound. “Kijani get Calypso!”

“I’m here love.”

Startled, Kraven whirred at the gentle voice, the limp boy held tightly in his arms, but his face softened into a relieved smile as he saw the beautiful women now standing before him, seeming so out of place in the dank and disgusting sewers. “Calypso,” he breathed, holding the wounded child out for her to see.

The strange woman who had appeared from nowhere walked to stand beside the hunter, her fingers gently trailing over the boy’s chest and belly as she stared at him as if in a trance. Her hand finally came to rest over the wound in his shoulder and she frowned ever so slightly, making the man mentally wince at her displeasure.

“This will not do.”

 

 

 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the chapter's a little longer this time. It also might be a little rough but I hope you like it anyway and, as always, I love reviews.


	5. Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at a review (thank you so much for all the wonderful comments by the way) for the last chapter I realized I must specify that the Calypso in this story is not the crazy voodoo priestess in the marvel comics or the doctor from TAS, but is rather based on the Calypso in The Spectacular Spider-man cartoon with a little extra personal twist you’ll figure out soon enough. The Kraven is also based on The Spectacular Spidy but without the whole mutant lion, change-y thing he gets when he takes that serum. All in all this is supposed to be a first meeting so it should be tons of fun. 
> 
> Also, unless I state it otherwise, I think of peter as getting ‘bitten’ when he is 13 or 14 right before or starting high school on that school field trip so he’s right in his early teens in this fic.
> 
> Oh and by the way for those that don't know Kraven's real name is Sergei Kravinoff. It will come to play in this chapter.

Peter dimly felt himself being lifted, his body drifting with the movements of another, but he was too faint to process anything more then that. A soft groan escaped his lips as his newfound consciousness brought along with it a fiery throbbing in his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes, to see who was holding him and where they were going, but his eyelids just fluttered weakly, the small effort draining his energy.

The next thing Peter knew he was being lain down on something padded. He could smell leather. God, it was so strong it made him want to gag. He turned his face away, gasping for fresh air, but even that little motion made him feel dizzy and weak. His head was swimming. Hot. He was so tired, his eyelids seemed so heavy he couldn’t even think to try opening them. He just wanted to sleep.

Distantly, Peter heard the sound of an engine turn over and the seat below him began to vibrate softly. The boy realized suddenly he was in some kind of car, but he was too hurt and tired to make himself care. The vehicle shifted with the weight of people getting in then doors slammed near Peter, but still he didn’t care. He could sense the presence of people around him, but his senses didn't alarm him so he sighed and relaxed into the soft padding beneath him. He was so tired. So very tired.

Voices above Peter brought him back from the grey place he had been flaoting in. It was a slow and painful return, every part of his body demanding attention through throbbing aches and sharp agonizing stabs, but he still managed to pull himself back. He strained to hear, curious of the identity of the people who had saved him? Kidnapped him? He wasn’t sure anymore. But all the listening made the pounding in his head worse. He could hear the words, but he couldn’t make himself comprehend them. He tried to remember if he had hit his head, if somehow he had hurt his brain when suddenly the words snapped into focus.

“… wasn’t supposed to… swear Calypso I didn’t know…“ The gruff, male voice said desperately, almost begging.

Calypso? Peter’s brow furrowed. Who was Calypso?

“Shh. He is still alive Sergei,” a soft, very female voice said in return. “But very weak. He has lost so much.”

Who the hell was Sergei? Peter thought. Are they talking about me? I’ve lost something? What have I lost? Peter had been listening for five seconds and already he was confused.

Peter felt a gentle hand brush through his hair, scattering his thoughts. He moaned and stirred slightly before settling again with a sigh. He wondered who was touching him. Why it felt… it felt so nice. The hand came back, stroking his cheek and he tried to press into the touch, tried to make it linger just a little longer, but his wounded shoulder started screaming at the motion and he froze, breathless with the pain.

“Calm child,” the woman said in that beautiful voice again, stroking his feverish forehead as he gasped for air. Peter didn’t know how it was possible, but everywhere she touched he felt better, cool against his feverish skin. His headache lessened enough so that he could almost think again. She was so close. He could sense her. So close. She smelled like rain. Oh god. I’m going insane. He felt like he was burning up. So hot. The heat was melting him. Killing him. Then her words cut through the fires within him, bringing him back with a gasp.

“Oh this one is strong Sergei.” Peter heard the smile in her voice and felt her fingering in his hair again. It was so good. So comforting. He never wanted to stop. He could listen to her forever. Feel her forever. God what is happening to me?!

“He is fighting the illness even now,” the female voice continued to say. “So strong.”

Who was she? Dammit who was she?! Peter wanted to see her. He wanted to see so desperately. Tears of despair escaped from behind eyelids too heavy to open. Why did he have to be so weak?!

“Is he really just a boy Calypso?”

The man’s deep voice rumbled again, startling Peter and the boy suddenly felt normal again. Yes, he was hurt and feverish, but he wasn’t so utterly obsessed with the strange woman he knew was sitting so close to him. It was almost like a spell had been broken… The conversation above him continued before the teen could get too wrapped up in thoughts of magic.

“Seems so.”

“You know what I mean.” The man sounded exasperated.

The woman chuckle, her hands stroking though Peter's hair again. “He is a bit… changed but certainly still human.”

Someone else – it had to be the man, the Sergei – touched Peter’s wounded shoulder and he flinched with a startled cry. It hurt. Even the softest touch on his shoulder hurt. He couldn’t understand how something could feel this bad. He felt hot and nauseous on top of the pain. Somehow it was even worse than he had felt when he had gotten shot for the first time.

The hand was quickly snatched away from Peter’s shoulder at his cry and the boy heard a hiss of breath. “His bleeding still hadn’t stopped. Can you…?”

“I will see what I can do,” the woman conceded. “I certainly cannot turn away from one who struggles so hard to live,” she added and Peter felt her tousle his hair in an affectionate sort of way even though he was having trouble following the conversation again.

“He is very deserving.” The almost loving way those last words rolled off the women’s tongue was disconcerting, but Peter didn’t have time to think about it. Or the pain tolerance. His head was killing him!

Peter sensed sudden movement around him. The woman’s touch disappeared drawing the boy’s attention and he forced himself to drag his eyes open, trying to see what was going on, but that was a very big mistake. His eyes felt sticky with grit and sleep and the moment they were open, light stabbed through his brain like a knife. He jerked in surprise and pain and snapped his eyes closed again, but the damage had already been done. He groaned as the pounding in his head came back with a vengeance, and he rested his good arm across his face, trying to shield himself from the light. God he was going to be sick.

Peter’s hand felt something sticky in his hair and, confused, he let his fingers search the back of his head. The distraction alleviated a bit of the pain for a moment, but then he winced as his fingertips brushed a sore bump and he suddenly remembered falling and hitting his head. I must have a concussion, Peter thought grimly. He could feel the dried blood in his hair. Blood...

Peter’s mind suddenly caught up with the conversation that had been happening above him. His shoulder. He was still bleeding. Shit.

Peter’s free hand moved, gently feeling for the stab wound in his shoulder. He knew he had found it when his fingertips brushed something slick. Blood. Too wet. It wasn’t… He swallowed hard, letting his hand hold the bandaged wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. It was all that he could do. He could still feel the blood seeping through his fingers. God what it must be doing to the upholstery. A little giggle bubbled up inside Peter’s mind at the notion, but he was too tired to voice it. Then his thoughts turned to the serious matter at hand. Why am I still bleeding? Why wasn’t it healing? Then he remembered: poison.

Peter sensed movement close by again and whimpered softly. Where these people the ones who hurt him? He couldn’t remember who-

A soft touch on the boy’s shoulder startled him. He jerked back with a fearful yip, his thoughts getting the better of him. What did they want with him? Where they going to kill him? Torture him? What? What was their motive? He pressed himself back into the seat, panting, fear joining the nausea that twisted in his stomach.

“Shh, easy boy,” the women said softly, her hand gently stroking his hair in that impossibly soothing way again. “We’re not going to hurt you," she explained. "You are having a bad reaction to a drug... It’s damaging you more than it should, keeping you from healing. You must lie still and save your strength.”

Peter moaned in repose, not really comprehending what she had said, and tried to open his eyes again. He wanted to see the wound. To see what was wrong. And to see her. He weakly tried to lift his head, his eyes opening to bare slits, but all he could see was white before the pain from the light overcame him and he had to close his eyes again. A soft sob escaped his lips. He felt so dizzy and sick and the horrible, horrible throbbing in his head added to his nausea. He felt so bad he wanted to pass out again. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. He didn’t register the gasp of surprise when he had opened his eyes until her gentle hands were caressing his cheeks again.

“Show me your eyes child,” she whispered, her fingered gently whipping away the tracks of tears he hadn’t even realized he had let fall.

He moaned, half-heartedly trying to pull away from her grasp. He couldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, but, god, he wanted to see her. A sob escaped his lips. He just couldn’t.

“Shh,” she soothed. “It’s okay little one. Don’t worry. I will keep away the pain.”

Peter gasped as he felt her palm pressed fully onto his forehead. It was so cold. He hadn’t realized how very hot he had become. Now it felt like his brain was numb. It didn’t really feel good, but the pain was gone for the moment. He cracked his eyes open just a bit and blinked when there was no accompanying pain, opening his eyes fully.

The light was still bright and made his eyes water. He couldn’t see clearly through all the tears, but he still could see her or rather a very blurred image of her. Dark, chocolaty skin. Even darker hair. And a sweet smile. That was all he could make out. Still he knew she had to be gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered, stroking his cheek. “You’re soul.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he would have said, but the dry, ragged coughing that followed wasn’t it.

“Oh dear.” Peter heard the woman say sorrowfully, her free hand coming to rest on his chest and her other continued to lie across his forehead. The teen felt horrible for making her sad even as pain started to creep back into his flesh, beginning at his shoulder and washing over his body in a horrible wave. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that he was fine, but he couldn’t stop coughing. The hoarse breaths were torn from his body, making his dry throat burn.

“Shhh boy. Relax.” He dimly felt her hand stroking through his hair as slowly the coughing fit eased then stopped, leaving his gasping for air.

Peter sighed, his eyes blinking open once before falling closed in exhaustion. He was so tired. His eyelids so heavy he couldn’t bear to keep them open anymore. Even so he felt a sort of peace inside him at having seen her finally.

The teen felt soft lips brush his forehead. “I’m sorry,” her voice whispered, seeming to caress him through the darkness of his closed eyes. “I should not have pushed you so. Sleep now child. I promise you will be safe.”

Peter felt a strange pull on his shoulders, but mental pull rather than a physical on. Then he was falling back into darkness. He relaxed, knowing he would be safe. She had said so and so he embraced his unconsciousness and the painlessness that came with it, letting it suck him down until he felt no more.

 

  
**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I’m so happy I managed to get another chapter up. I hope you like it. I might get another chapter or two up in the next couple days, but soon I will end up somewhere without electricity so I won’t be able to update for awhile, but be assured this fic isn’t abandoned, just on hiatus. Please, please review. I love hearing from you all.


	6. Heat

Heat brought Peter back to consciousness, an unbearable searing heat that suffused every cell in his body with molten lava. He gasped awake, his eyes blinking open, but refusing to focus. He clutched at his throat feeling his chest tighten. He couldn’t catch his breath. It was so hot. So hot it was suffocating. Sweat soaked his clothes, or was it all blood? He didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t think-

A gentle hand rested itself against his forehead, cool against his burning skin, the cold catching his attention.

“You weren’t supposed to wake child,” Calypso whispered softly and he remembered Her. Her voice, Her touch... but he hurt so much. It wasn’t enough anymore. She couldn’t keep the fever inside him from burning him, melting him. Oh god it was so hot. He couldn’t breathe.

Cool fingers trail over his hot skin, circling the wound in his shoulder. “I am sorry for this discomfort child. You shouldn’t have woke. Go back to sleep.”

Peter’s eyes drooped, suddenly feeling so heavy. So tired. He realized dimly his head was resting on someone’s lap. He could feel the warmth of another’s body and somehow it was comforting even though it added heat to his already burning body. He could smell Her again. So sweet... sweet rain. It made him so sleepy. So very tired.

No! Peter jerked in panic, realizing there was a foreign influence in his mind, trying to force him to sleep. No. Stop!

He felt the influence- Her influence trying to force him to be calm again, to sleep, but he wouldn’t let it. He struggled fiercely against it, his instincts yelling at him never to let anyone control him again, not after Venom.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! The tension inside Peter snapped suddenly at his mental shriek and disappeared, leaving him drowning in heat again, but mercifully alone in his head.

The boy sobbed in relief, having become mortally terrified of having anything, but himself in his own mind. He was so relieved he did not here the gasp of surprise and pain following the broken connection.

“He’s stronger than I thought.”

God he was so hot and hurt, the pounding in his head so loud he couldn’t hear the words around him anymore. Peter just knew that she had spoken again, but was too sick to care. So sick it felt like his head was going to explode at any moment. God, please just stop this. Let me pass out. Let me sleep. Just stop this. PLEASE.

Peter’s sobs of relief turned to tears of pain as his burning body tortured him from within. There was nothing he could do, but suffer. He felt so bad it wouldn’t even let him fall unconscious anymore. Oh god. He whimpered, pressing his face into the lap his head was resting on as sobbed. Oh god, please. Please. Help me.

Peter started as a hand clasped his good shoulder, but then he just moaned and went limp again as even the slightest movement made his headache even worse.

“I didn’t know he would feel it this strongly,” the man said, but Peter was passed following words. All he knew was he was hot and sick and was going to throw up very, very soon. Hell he wanted to throw up because maybe, just maybe after that he would feel a little better.

“I know my love.”

It was Her speaking again and Her gentle touch came with it. Peter sighed, any relief now feeling like the only thing in the world that mattered.

“It is a part of his change,” she continued to say as he whimpered against her desperate for more of anything that would make him feel even the slightest bit better. “We need to get the anti toxin into him now or he’s going to burn up.”

Peter felt a gentle push on his un-wounded shoulder then he was lying on his back again, gasping at the air above him, suddenly unable to catch his breath. It had nothing to do with the position and everything to do with the fever burning him inside. Then Her touch was back, comforting... until he realized she was now firmly holding his arms. Someone else was kneeling beside him, touching his lips. It made no sense. He tried to pull away, but they wouldn’t let him. Restraint brought fear crashing through him. He let out a panicked cry, kicking out, but connecting with nothing. The man – he knew it had to be the man – took advantage of the moment and slide a disgusting finger into his mouth. Shocked, Peter tried to bite but he was too slow. He winced as something thick and slimy and AWFUL was left on his tongue. He tried to spit it out, but a hand covered his mouth. He tried to bite again, but his body simply wasn’t listening to him. The shock of the disgusting taste in his mouth was too much. His stomach roiled, threatening to truly revolt if he didn’t get rid of the taste _now_. He could feel the slime melting with the heat of his mouth and trickling down his throat, leaving a horribly bitter grit behind. He gagged so hard on the taste it brought fresh tears to his eyes, but they still wouldn’t let him spit it out. He sobbed, tears streaming down his face at this new torture. He shook his head, trying to get away but they wouldn’t let him. There was nothing he could do.

A gentle touch on Peter’s cheek from a calloused hand startled him and he jerked away from it scared.

“I’m sorry boy,” the man’s voice rumbled softly. “But you must take it.”

Peter shook his head in defiance. He didn’t know what they were trying to feed him, but he didn’t trust it. Not like this. He wrenched his body, struggling as hard as his weakened form could, but his kicks found nothing but air and the delicate hands wrapped around his wrists were stronger than they should have been, easily holding him in place. His body tired all too quickly, his aching muscles shaking with the strain. Tears of fear and frustration welled up and flowed from his eyes as soft whimpers of distress fell unbidden from his mouth. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. He was trapped.

Then the woman’s voice came again, soft and sweet, trying to coax him into submission. “Swallow child,” she whispered, her voice like a silk ribbon caressing his burning body. “It will help. I promise. Just swallow and it will be okay.”

Peter tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t hold out any longer. It tasted too bad. Saliva was flooding his mouth, making it hard to breathe. He had to do as she said or he was going to choke. He closed his eyes, tears splashing down his face and swallowed. The slimy stuff slid down his throat like a slug, leaving a horrible trail of disgusting behind. He retched at the taste, but it stayed down.

“Good boy,” a deep voice murmured, than the hand was taken from his mouth, leaving him gasping for air. He automatically licked his lips then winced as the motion just mashed the lingering horror into his taste buds further. It was so god awful bad. A soft sob escaped him, then he felt his arms being let go too. He crossed them defensively over his chest, his good hand clutching his wounded shoulder. He felt so nauseated and hot after his struggled. His shoulder was burning fiercely and his head pounding horribly, the migraine making the lights too bright. He moaned, miserable and squeezed his eyes even tighter shut against the world as tears rolled down his face. Why is everything so mean to me? It’s not fair.

Calypso was running her hands through his hair and murmuring to him softly again. “Shh little brave one. You’re alright. You’re alright.”

Something new was placed to Peter’s lips and he flinched away from it, hiding his face in the warm body next to him.

“It’s just water,” the women’s voice said, reassuringly. “Drink.”

He just whimpered.

“Drink boy,” she repeated in a firmer voice and Peter suddenly felt compelled to do as told. The influence was gentler this time, a suggestion not a command and he gave into it, too weak to struggle anymore. He lifted his head, allowing his lips to be guided to the glass then the glorious liquid splashed over his tongue. It was heaven, washing away the lingering slime and soothing his sore throat. He clutched weakly at the cup, gulping greedily with an undying thirst that came from loosing copious amounts of blood.

“Easy there boy,” the woman said, tipping the glass up a bit to force him to slow down. “You don’t want to choke.”

Her logic was annoying. He was so thirsty. He almost growled, but then caught himself. She was right after all. He mentally sighed and slowly sipped at the rest of the water until it was gone, than relaxed back in Her lap, half-conscious. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. He let his eyes drift close.

The next thing Peter felt was the pressure against his wounded shoulder lessen, but he was too exhausted to open his eyes. He heard the snip of scissors and knew the bandages were being undone. He could feel the wet cloth still slick with his blood being pulled away from his skin and moaned as the cool air on his open wound made him shiver. Then words came again. Alarming words.

“Hold him down. This will hurt.”

Something… Something cold and slimy was being slathered on his wounded shoulder, making him flinch. It started to tingle and his tried to pull away as strange words were mumbled on the air.

“Don’t-“ he gasped out then choked on the words as his shoulder burst into flame. It was agony. So hot, so horrible for a second he just froze. It felt like a burning brand had been pressed to his skin and was searing its way into his flesh. He wanted to run, to get away but he couldn’t get himself to move. It hurt so bad. He opened his mouth to scream, but the darkness took him, pulling him down into unconsciousness, and, mercifully, he felt nothing more.

 

 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will probably be my last update for a bit since I’m going AWOL for a little while, but I hope you have enjoyed my little spree of postings. And, as you know, I love reviews so please, PLEASE feel free to comment.


	7. Hurl

Peter groaned, rubbing at his tired, gummy eyes as consciousness came back to him. He didn’t want to be awake. He was hot and shaky and it felt like someone had scooped out his brain, put in a blender with hot sauce then shoveled the mush back in between his ears. All in all it just plain was awful and the bright light around him wasn’t making it any better.

What happened? Peter couldn’t remember. Trying to think hurt too much. The teen moaned, curling deeper into the blankets and hiding his face as he tried to fall asleep again, but sleep just wouldn’t come.

Please... god please. He begged, squeezing his eyes against the increasing pain, but despite all his efforts something was keeping him up.

Why? He had to think. It hurt, but he did it anyway. Then he realized... he was thirsty. Really thirsty. He licked his lips tentatively and winced at the dry sandpaper his tongue had become. Water. I need water. But that would mean opening his eyes. The boy groaned, but lifted his head, blinking his sleepy eyes open.

A bedside table came into focus before him. There was a lamp on it and... and a glass of water.

Thank god. He snatched it up without a second thought and threw back his head, chugging the precious liquid down. God it was good... and all too soon gone. He set the empty glass back on the table and wiped his lips on the back of his arm, panting. Maybe now he could finally fall asleep again.

The teen gingerly lay his aching body down on the bed again and pressed him face into the pillows, relaxing. Then tension in his muscles slowly released and he sighed in relief, but something was still wrong. His thirst was gone but... but... Dammit all, I have to pee.

A soft whimper escaped the boy. Maybe... maybe I can just ignore it. Peter lay silently for several seconds trying to sleep, but now that he had recognized the need it just became more urgent.

God damn it! He huffed, throwing the covers off him to get up, but the sight of the blankets made him freeze. They were the wrong color.

He blinked, gathering the fabric in his hands in dumbfounded confusion. This isn’t my bed. The covers were red... Thick and red and plush. His were navy. He glanced up, actually looking at the room around him for the first time. Dread, settled heavily in his belly at what he saw. This isn’t even my house! Where the hell am I? And why... A shiver ran through him as the cool air kissed his skin and he looked down at himself. Why am I so NAKED?!

Peter squeaked and instinctively clutched the blankets to his chest, suddenly very awake. I NEVER sleep naked. And I... He lifted the blankets to look under them, before quickly covering himself again, a blush warming his face. I am completely naked. In a strangers house. What the hell is going on here and where the fuck are my clothes?!

And as if things weren’t weird enough, a lion suddenly poked it’s head up over the foot of the king-sized bed and looked at him.

A startled scream jumped out of Peter’s mouth and he jerked back against the headboard of the bed, slamming hard enough into it a little dust sprinkled down from the ceiling.

A deep rumble came from the large feline and it turned it’s head to look fully at Peter with both eyes.

The boy just stared at it, his own eyes bulging. This can’t be happening. This has to be a dream. It has to be.

The lion placed it’s paws on the end of the bed and jumped up, the mattress dipping under it’s weight. Peter’s breath froze in his chest. This was a real fucking realistic dream. And thank god it was a really fucking big bed. The lion was still a couple yards away from him even as it started to walk towards him.

The teen finally found his strength and spilled himself over the side of the bed, away from the oncoming carnivore, but his legs collapsed out from under him as soon as he tried to stand on the hard-wood floor. Despite the fear and adrenaline washing hot through his blood he was weak as a kitten.

Peter knew he couldn’t hope to outrun a lion by crawling so he rolled under the bed hoping the feline wouldn’t find him.

He heard a thump as the lion jumped down from the bed, a growl rumbling from it’s chest. Peter covered his mouth with his hands, trying to quiet his panicked, panting breaths as he watched the paws walk around the side of the bed where he had gotten off. The lion sniffed at the ground for a second then paced over to the other side of the bed, rumbling louder as it tried to figure out where the boy had gone.

Okay. Okay. Peter took a second to try and think through his situation. I’m naked in a strange room with a _LI-ON_. This has to be a dream. It has to be. Shit! But then why does my head hurt so much?! And body and my shoulder- god that hurts... and it’s bandaged. Peter gently touched the white, gauzy bandages over his shoulder, confused. What the hell happened to me?!

Peter cried out in shock as the lion suddenly realized where he was and took a swipe under the bed with its paw. It wasn’t trying to hurt him, just reach him, but the boy had no way of knowing that.

Oh god. Oh god. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do?! He knew was too weak to fight a lion. How do you even begin to fight a lion?!

Peter’s mouth went dry as he watched the lion’s paws lope around the bed – towards _his_ side of the bed. In a second the big cat had crouched down, it’s lips pulled back to show teeth as it swiped at him again. Closer this time. Too close.

Peter squirmed back, so panicked he didn’t realized he had accidentally moved out from under the bed until his back hit something solid. Peter’s head jerked and he stared dumbly up for a second before recognition filled his eyes, widening them with fear.

The man standing over him was a PETA nightmare. He was handsome in a vicious sort of way, all tanned skin, thick dark hair, trim beard and piercing eyes, but the boy didn’t see that. Nor did he notice the strange garb the man was wearing – the loose fur vest hanging open over his strong bare chest, the soft flexible leather pants meant for practicality rather than fashion and the carnivore tooth necklace hanging around his throat. It was like staring up at an evil Tarzan. But none of that mattered to Peter. The only thing that mattered to the teen was that this man had stabbed him – had tried to kill him and somehow he now found himself in this man’s clutches. That was very, very bad.

The dark man blinked down at him, and seemed almost surprised. “So you’re awake,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.

The sound of the man’s voice startled Peter out of his stupor. He glanced to the bed for a second then jerked his eyes back to the man, thinking.

“Now boy-“ Kraven said, raising him hands in a peaceful gesture, but it was already too late.

Peter lurched up and dove for under the bed, his eyes still glued to Kraven. Unfortunately in his weakened start he misjudged the distance. He felt a flash of warning from his spidy-sense, but it was already too late.

A loud crack split the air as the side of the boy’s head slammed into the solid wood of the bed frame. Peter cried out as pain flashed through him, dropping him like a rock. He curled up with a sob, clutching his head. Oh god. It hurt so much. Tears dripped down his cheeks at the pain. His fingers with slick with blood. God I’m going to puke.

A hand touched his side and he flinched with a cry, knowing it had to be the man.

“Easy boy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

But Peter couldn’t hear the words. Blood pounded in his ear, the ringing in his head drowning out any other sound. Weakly, Peter tried to push himself up, away from the scary dark man, but the room bobbed and swayed around him and he dimly felt himself slump back onto the cool floor, panting roughly. Sour bile and saliva flooded his mouth as his stomach roiled. He swallowed hard, but it didn’t help. His body wanted to throw up so it was going to throw up no matter what he did. He coughed wetly then the hot burning of vomit surged up his throat and he retched violently, spilling the contents of his stomach on the floor.

Peter dimly heard someone curse, but he felt too miserable to care. Everything hurt and now his throat was burning too. It was just too much. A sob escaped him. Just... just... please... He begged, too out of it to even form a coherent thought.

Faintly Peter felt someone’s strong arms wrap around him, pulling him into a protective embrace. He filched, crying out in anguish. He didn’t want to get hurt anymore. Please...

“Easy. Easy boy. You hit your head pretty hard. Let me help you.”

Peter let out a low moan, reluctantly relaxing against the man’s chest. There was nothing else he could do. He was too tired to struggle and... and the room seemed to be growing darker. The boy blinked, and the room was darker still, his vision dimming further before he altogether passed out.

Kraven was left with the limp body of the boy cradled in his arms, bleeding anew and needing fresh bandages. The big Russian sighed, standing up, the noxious vomit-fumes making his nose wrinkle with distaste. He couldn’t blame the child for his fear, but this was getting out of hand. Kraven heaved another sigh, shaking his head as sticky, wet blood smeared over his chest from the teen’s new wound. The poor kid had really hit his noggin hard. He would have one hell of a headache when he woke, not to mention a concussion, the man thought as his eyes inspected Peter’s bloody scalp before laying the brunet gently on the bed and pulling a first aid kit from one of the bedside table’s draws. Well it was time to get to work... _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I finally got something up. Sorry its been so long. I’ve been dealing with an evil little bugger of a test that has me worked up into a stress ball. I finally gave up and decided to take a day off to do what I wanted to do, hence this chapter. I know it’s pretty short and a bit rough, but I hope you like it anyway. As always I love reviews. 
> 
> PS: Thank you to everyone who has commented lately. I’m sorry I haven’t replied yet. I promise I’m not ignoring you. I just thought you would rather have a chapter then me spending the day replying to everyone. Thanks for understanding and if I’m lucky I may have some time to work on my other fanfics as well.


	8. Hope and Hopelessness

Kraven sat at the table by the wall of windows, his head resting on a fist as he stared at the bed. The boy would wake up sooner or later and the man didn't want to have to be called by the kid's screams again so he waited and watched, Kijani curled at his feet. The lion huffed out an impatient breath making Kraven reach down and ruffle his neck. He knew Kijani hadn't meant any harm to the child. The lion was just curious about the human he had been set to guard, but that hadn't mattered. The boy had feared him anyway and Kraven hoped to forgo that experience a second time.

A groan from the bed made the Russian look up from his petting and thoughts. The boy shifted in the plush crimson covers and rolled over in his sleep, curling deeper into the blankets. Kraven settled back in his chair, watching the tell-tale rise and fall of the teen's body as he breathed. It would only be a matter of time now. Soon the boy would wake... and what would he do then?

Kraven frowned, suddenly feeling unsure of himself, but despite his insecurities he continued to quietly sit and watch and wait as uncertain thoughts swirled around his head. He couldn't pretend to know what was going to happen when the child woke. He couldn't even guess and he didn't like that. The boy was not an animal of predictable habits. Hell he wasn't even a human of predictable habits.

Kraven sighed, leaning back in his chair. There was nothing he could do, but hope this next encounter would go well. So hope he did.

 

**/\/\/\/\**

Peter really, really did not want wake up. He groaned, rubbing at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands then winced. Confused with the pain, he let his fingers gently probe his right cheek and winced again. The flesh was tender to the touch. It almost felt bruised. When did that happen?

Peter blinked his eyes open, perplexed. His head ached and his body felt like a lead weight. He did not want to get up but... but something was wrong. Something... he remembered a lion?

He let out a sigh, massage his aching head. That couldn't be right. It had to have been a dream. Some crazy, crazy dream.

A soft rumble made the boy look up and his eyes widened at what he saw. There really was a lion. A fucking lion!

The feline was lying on the floor this time, right by the side of his bed. It looked up at him with its deep golden eyes and huffed softly, it's head on it's paws like an oversized dog, but it did not try to stand or come closer to him.

All Peter could do was stare. How was this possible?

The lion raised and cocked it's head at him, letting out a half-whine, half-roar as it shifted a bit closer to him.

Peter blanched, backing away from the edge of the bed, but keeping the big cat in sight. What do I do?

"Kijani stop pestering out guest."

Peter's eyes jerked towards the voice and saw the dark man sitting at a table quietly watching him and the lion interact. The sunlight haloed around the Russian from the bank of windows behind him, making it hard to see him clearly, but the teen thought he was smiling. Now _that_ was disturbing.

The lion also looked back over it's shoulder at Kraven and huff in impatient irritation.

"I know you're trying to help, but the kid's freaked out as it is," the man said gently to the big cat, knowing the curiosity that drove Kijani closer to the boy as he slept and not finding it within himself to fault his friend for his nature. "Your kind are not very common around here."

Peter stared utterly dumbfounded as the man and the lion continued to chat as if they could understand one another. The teen certainly couldn't. At least not the lion's part. This had to be the strangest scenario in the world. Peter had no clue what was going on, but there was one thing he did know. I need to get out of here, he thought licking his lips nervously as his eyes darted around looking for an escape point. There was no way he was going to stay in this kind of crazy company for a second longer then he needed to. His searching gaze found a couple of doors, but he had no way of knowing where they went. The windows looked to be his best option. He could break one and get out. That's all he had to do. He might even have enough strength to pull it off, though running was going to be a problem.

Peter let out a long sigh, focusing himself. First: get out. Second: escape. The rest didn't matter. Peter pulled his legs under him, wrapping the blankets tight around his shoulders, unwilling to throw away any more of his modesty then he had to, and gathered his strength for the task at hand.

Kraven saw the kid tense and raised his head from his hand, worry creasing his face. They had been doing so well. The kid hadn't even freaked out. At least not like last time... or so he thought. "Boy-"

Peter leaped, the blankets billowing out behind him like crimson wings. In one bound the teen cleared the lion and slammed his shoulder into the wall of windows with all his might.

The glass didn't give.

His shoulder did.

Peter screamed and nearly passed out as he dropped to the ground. He clutched at his wounded shoulder and gritted his teeth, hissing out a pained breath. Blood seeped through his fingers. It didn't make sense. He knew he had been stabbed, but it should have healed. It should have but... He shuddered, his body swaying as he tried to keep his feet. Stupid right-sided dominance, he cursed under his breath and gathered the last of his strength for one final blow. Pulling his left arm back, he slammed his fist into the window again, praying somehow it would break.

The faintest fracture appeared in the glass, but that was all. The boy stared in horror at the inch-long crack, dread settling heavily in his gut. The glass was reinforced. There was no way he could break through it in his weakened state. No way...

The skin over his knuckles was split and bloody, but that pain was nothing compared to the agony in his shoulder or the depression of defeat. Peter leaned against the window with a sob. I tried. A tear escaped his eyes. I tried, but it wasn't enough.

The brunet heard someone coming up behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to look. This can't be happening. It can't.

A hand touched his back.

"No!" he yelled, whirling and striking out with his good arm to throw off the hand.

The man was there. The dark man. The bad man. So close.

"No," Peter whispered again, shaking his head as fear started to infect his mind, stealing his strength. He stumbled back into the corner, desperate to get some space between him and the hunter and collapsed, panting hard. He felt washed out and dizzy, his muscles shaking from strain. There was nothing he could do. He curled up in the blankets with a soft sob, staring fearfully at the man who had stabbed him.

Kraven frowned at the bloody smear the teen had left behind on the window before letting his gaze slide back to the boy. He didn't know what he should do now. What _could_ he do to put the kid at ease?

Slowly, so as not to alarm the boy, the Russian motion to Kijani with a hand to stay back. He didn't want the child to get any more agitated then he already was. There was no doubting the boy's instincts were sharp. The kid had a right to fear him, given their past, but right now was not the time for such things. Kraven didn't like the amount of blood the boy was losing from his re-opened wound. He had to see to the injury soon or there could be complications. Kraven took a step forward, his arms spread wide so the teen could see he was not carrying any weapons.

"Calm boy. I'm not going to hurt you," the Russian said, taking another step forward.

Peter's wide-eyes were glued to the man. "No," he whispered, shaking his head again.

Kraven took a third step forward. "I just want to help."

The boy pressed himself further into the corner and continued to shake his head.

"Boy-"

Peter broke on the forth step. "No. S-stay-STAY AWAY!" he yelled and jumped up into the corner of the ceiling where Kraven couldn't reach.

Kraven blinked, startled as he looked up at the teen now crouched above his head. He had not thought the kid had enough strength to do such a thing, but despite his surprise he tried to keep his tone soft and soothing for the boy's sake.

"Ah so you can say more than 'no,'" Kraven said with a gentle smile, hoping it would comfort the child in some small way. In truth, the boy's words were a very good sign. If the kid could push past his fear enough to speak it also meant he could listen and maybe even reason. "Come down here boy," Kraven said, beckoning with a hand. "I promise you won't be harmed."

"No," Peter moaned, pressing his cheek against the cool wall as the room swam around him. He felt so dizzy and his words slurred a little in his misery. "Jusht leave me alone."

"Boy," Kraven frowned as he watched a couple of drops of blood fall to the ground, forming a small red pool on the floor. The Russian look back up at the teen, his brow furrowing with concern. "I swear it on all my gods I won't hurt you. You need help."

"No," Peter shook his head then had to stop as the world gave a wild tilt and he almost fell. He clung tightly to the ceiling and closed his eyes, focusing on just hanging on. He had to stay conscious. He couldn't faint. After a moment he opened his eyes again and refocused on the man below him, the dizzy spell gone. "I don't know you and I don't trust you," he teen said, his eyes hardened. The man had to be playing a trick. Nothing else made sense.

"Humph," Kraven shifted on his feet and crossed arms over chest, his patience starting to wear thin. "Who do you think bandaged you, boy? Why would I do that if I meant you harm?"

Peter's gaze didn't waver. "Who do I _know_ stabbed me," he snarled back.

Kraven blinked. The boy was sharp as a tack. Even as hurt and scared as he was he could debate with the best of them and the Russian knew he was far from the best.

Kraven sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look boy-" But Peter cut him off.

"There was a woman. She..." The teen looked away for a second, chewing on his lip as he thought through his situation, then he looked back at Kraven with tired, pleading eyes. "Where is she?"

Kraven smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. "Ah yes my Calypso. She is not here right now, but she will be back soon. You can see her then."

The boy tipped his chin up defiantly. "Then I will wait right here."

Kraven frowned, his eyes darting to the slowly expanding puddle of blood under the kid before they flicked up again. "Boy you do not have the strength for that and we both know it," the man said as gently as he could. It simply was the truth. Even from where he was standing he could see the kid visibly shaking with strain. It would only be a matter of time before the teen passed out, but the longer Kraven had to wait to treat the child, the more blood the boy would lose. The man preferred to limit that loss as much as he could. "Come down and-"

"No!" Peter knew it was true, but he didn't want to believe it. Even now he could feel his grip weakening... If he fainted he would fall and if he fell... No, he thought, shaking his head. I have to get out.

Kraven shifted on his feet below the teen, feeling helpless and not liking it one bit. He could have dragged the boy down from the ceiling, but what good would that do? The kid would only struggle and there would be more problems and- The man sighed. "What would you have me do, boy? What could I swear to to make you trust my word?"

Peter gave him a long, searching look, his face drawn and serious.

Kraven felt his breath catch as he stared up into those dazzlingly intelligent brown eyes. It felt almost like the boy was looking into his very soul then those brown eyes blinked and a voice whispered.

"I would have you let me go."

All the Russian could do was tense before Peter burst into action. The teen leapt to his feet and raced across the ceiling, aiming for one of the doors. He heard a curse behind him and the heavy footsteps of someone running behind him, but he didn't take the time to look. He didn't have the extra second to spare.

Reaching the door, Peter jumped down to the floor to grab at the doorknob to yank the door open. He stumbled as he landed and almost fell, but his hands caught the metal of the knob and he pulled himself up, twisting his hands and pulling back to force the door open. Then an arm was snaking around his waist from behind and he let out an anguished cry as the man pulled him back. His grip slipped and he cried out again, tears coming to his eyes. He was so close. It wasn't fair.

"No!" Peter gave a hoarse sob, his hands scrabbling at the door. I have to escape. There is no other option. I... I don't want to die. Please.

"Calm boy!" Kraven pulled the teen's body back against his own, struggling to keep the door shut with one arm, while holding onto the kid with the other.

"Let me GO!" Peter growled clawing and kicking at the man, but nothing worked. He didn't have the leverage or the position to do much harm, but there was one thing...

"Ah," Kraven grabbed the boy under the chin just as the kid lunged for his arm. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you bite me again," the man said apologetically, now with one arm wrapped around the boy's middle, one holding him by the chin and a foot holding the door closed. "Will you calm down now?"

Peter snarled and shook his head, trying to get out of the man's grip, but despite his defiance, Kraven could feel the teen's body quivering with fear against his. The poor kid was so scared.

"Shh, calm," the man said gently as he rested a palm against the kid's belly, feeling it heave with his panting breaths. "It's okay."

"N-no," Peter stammered, trying to twist away from the hands that held him as his fear started to get the better of him.

Kraven sighed. "Please," he implored. "You're going to hurt yourself." He could feel the boy's struggles weakening, but from a lack of strength rather than the trust he would have liked.

"I thought that's what you were going to do," the teen snarled, his hands clutching at the arm around his waist, trying to pry it off, but it was like an iron bar had clamped around him. A soft sob fell from the boy and he suddenly went limp in Kraven's arms.

"Whoa! Boy?" For a second the man thought Peter had fainted, but he heard another sob escape the shivering boy's lips.

"Hey now-" Kraven started to say, but his breath caught as the boy looked up, his deep brown eyes full of hopelessness as tears streamed down his face.

"A-are you going to kill me?"

 

 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I’m so excited to be able to get another chapter up so soon. Screw my test; writing is so much more fun. And the wonderful comments I have been getting are a definite plus. Hope you like this little chappie. And a great, big thank you to all my wonderful reviewers. I hope to hear from you all soon. As always I freaking love reviews!


	9. Headache

_A-are you going to kill me?_

Kraven felt himself go cold as that weak whisper trembled tenuously on the air. Such a bitter question from such an innocent source made the implied accusation all the worse. The boy really thought he would do it. And the man wanted to say, 'No. Gods no.' He wanted to say that and so much more. He would have said anything to put the child shivering in his arms at ease, but he seemed to have lost his voice in his shock and didn’t get a word out before the boy was speaking again.

“P-please. Please. I just-“ The teen sighed with a shudder then, taking a deep, gulping breath, he seemed to steady himself. “If you’re going to do it, just do it,” he spat, his voice stronger than his shivering body would have belied. And Kraven was surprised by the courage hidden in those words. Most men would have been begging and more if the thought they were going to die, as the child obviously did by his tone, but this boy... This boy was still defiant as he continued with a tight snarl. “I’m sick of this stupid game!”

'It’s not a game. I want to help. Really.' But still the Russian’s tongue was a traitor. “Boy-” was all he managed before the teen was suddenly yelling at him.

“Why are you playing with me like this?!” he demanded, fresh tears shining in his eyes as he glared over his shoulder at the man. “What have I ever done to you? I don’t even know you! I don’t-”

Peter gasped, his body starting as he felt the hunter’s forehead come to rest between his shoulder blades.

Kraven let out a heavy sigh, his breath hot against the teen’s skin, making the boy squirm uncomfortably. The Russian was a stone cold hunter, but he had never expected something like this. Never...

“I’m sorry,” the man said in a hoarse whisper, his voice cracking as he forced the words out, lifting his head again to stare at the tense and trembling back before him with eyes full of regret. “Gods boy, I’m so sorry.”

Peter stared straight ahead, his eyes glued to the heavy mahogany wood of the door in front of him, too shocked to move or say anything. He tried to think through the thick fog of fear that had wrapped itself around his mind, clouding his thoughts with it's mind-numbing tendrils. Was this for real? No it couldn’t be... could it? Why would a guy stab me then say he was sorry? It didn’t make sense. Unless... Unless it was some kind of trick.

Kraven knew of nothing else he could possibly say to make the situation any better so he let his words hang in the air and waited, hoping for a response. He wasn't used to apologizing and thought that anything more would have just sounded fake.

Several long seconds stretched with only the sound of the boy's ragged breathing and then, miraculously, the teen spoke.

“What is this?" Peter said hesitantly, suddenly unsure of everything and completely confused. His voice cracked on the last word and he licked his dry lips, trying to comprehend what was really going on. "What are you trying-“

“Look...” Kraven paused, uncertain as to how to proceed then he sighed and, shaking his head, decided to go with the utter, honest truth. “I messed things up,” he breathed, almost more to himself then to the boy in his grasp. “But I truly do not wish you harm child,” he said in a gentle, nearly hopeful tone, wishing the boy would just trust him.

“Then let me g-wha!” Shock spiked through Peter as the man's arms suddenly released him and he fell forward against the door, clinging to it for balance. His legs shook with exhaustion at the sudden movement, his knees threatening to collapse out from under him. He hadn't realized how much of his weight the man had been holding; hadn't realized how truly weak he had grown and it scared him. He couldn't do anything in this kind of condition and was completely at the mercies of this dangerous stranger. A stranger who had stabbed him just hours before. Peter's fearful eyes darted up to look over his shoulder only to find the man standing with his arms spread wide in a peaceful gesture.

Kraven smile apologetically at the boy who stood, back to him, half collapsed on the door, shaking with exhaustion and fear. “There you see,” he said gently, raising his hand a bit higher to show he had no weapons on him. "I mean you no harm."

Peter glanced at the door in front of him then back over his shoulder at the man, automatically pulling the blanket tighter around his naked body, confused by this new development. Giving his head a little shake and trying to ignore the sudden hot spike of pain that flared anew inside his brain, he squared his shoulders and swallowed hard, focusing himself on what was most important.

“Will you let me leave?” he said softly, his voice rough in his dry mouth..

“You can’t.” Peter's eyes flared with anger, but Kraven hurried on before the teen could say anything. “You are too weak boy," he explained. "Too hurt. If you would let me-”

Peter filched as the Russian reached out. “No! Don’t touch me!” he yelled, balking, his body jerking to the side as he shielded away from the man's extended hand.

"Let me help-" Sergei took a step forward, concerned by the boy's sudden agitation as much as he was about the kid's wounds. This needed to stop. The teen needed to trust him, but-

"NO!" Peter shouted, whirling the rest of the way around in a blur of crimson fabric and lashing out.

The force of the blow felt like being kicked by a mule. Kraven stumbled back with a grunt, barely keeping his feet as the heel of the brunet's hand slammed into his chest at close range, forcing him away. He frowned, rubbing his sternum as he regain his balance and he felt the stickiness of the boy's half-dried blood on his skin. That was going to bruise, but it was his own fault for trying to push the teen to fast. He stood silently, his eyes studying the boy as he tried to evaluate the situation. If this had been a confrontation with one of the animals at his rescue center he would know just what to do, but faced with a human he was at a loss. Really it was hard to believe there was still so much strength in that little wounded body. Kraven knew he had to be twice the teen's weight at the very least and yet the kid had staggered him liked it was nothing. Well, not quite nothing. It might have been a different story if the brunet were healthy, but in his weakened state the action had drained much of his strength. He had collapsed back, sagging against the door, his chest heaving with his gasps as his body shuddered with the effort of staying upright.

Kraven lifted his eyes to meet the boy's fixed, panicked gaze and the kid flinched, a scared whimper escaping his lips despite himself. The man's eyes softened pityingly at the teen's clear fear of retaliation. "I'm not going to hurt you boy," he rumbled softly for what seemed to be the umpteenth time.

Another soft, scared sound fell from the teen and his anxious gaze flicked over his shoulder at the door behind him then quickly back to Sergei. It was obvious the kid was thinking of escape again and that simply would not do.

"What would running accomplish child?" Kraven sighed, trying to keep his patience, but this tedious repetition was fraying his nerves.

The boy started at the question, then his brow furrowed and he looked at the big man like he might be a bit stupid.

“Uh... I would get away from you,” Peter stated what he thought to be obvious. The youth winced as his voice cracked roughly at the last words and he swallowed hard trying to work up a bit of saliva to wet his mouth. With everything that was happening he hadn't noticed how very dehydrated he had become until that moment. He needed water soon... but he needed to escape first.

The Russian grimaced at the boy's horse croak of a voice. The brunet needed rebandaged, water, food and rest and Kraven wanted to give the boy everything he needed to recover and more, but it was obvious the teen wouldn't trust him until they somehow got this mess between them all cleared up.

Frustrated with the impossible situation, the man ran a rough hand through his dark hair, trying to think of something to put the boy at ease, but no magical set of actions, words or solutions came to him to repair the situation. There was no quick fix for this kind of thing. He would just have to be as honest as he could and hope for the best. Kraven sighed, raising his head to look at the youth. "I am no danger to you child," he said gently, his eyes softening as they lighted on the bloodied, trembling teen. "I swear I am not."

Peter blinked startled. “Whoa. Back up there," he said, a touch of false bravado tinting in his tone as he tried to smother the fear that festered inside him. He had always been a nervous talker and now it was coming out in force. "You stabbed me," he accused bluntly, his body leaning heavily back against the door, now unable to stand without support. "How is that ‘no danger?’” He would have added finger quote's to the last phrase, but he wasn't quite sure he could coordinate such a movement at the moment and stay upright.

Kraven shifted uncomfortably under then teen's accusation, unable to meet the boy’s fever-bright eyes. “That was before," he said just a bit defensively. "Things have changed since then.”

“Oh really?" Peter cocked his head in question. "How?”

“They just... have," the man said, frustrated he couldn't find the words to express him meaning properly in English. "Trust me boy," he said, lifting his eyes to meet the brunet's gaze. "Things have changed so much."

Peter gave a bitter laugh. "Trust you? Really?" he said incredulously. "I'm just supposed to trust you now after all of this? You _stabbed_ me. You _poisoned_ me. How the hell am I supposed to TRUST _YOU_?" Peter found himself suddenly yelling the last words, pent up emotion pouring out of him in a furious wave and then it was just gone. All the anger and fear rushing out of him, leaving him feeling weak and frail and so small. Fresh tears pricked at the teens eyes and he swallowed thickly on the nausea that suddenly filled him threatening to pour out. He felt so sick. Hot flashes and cold shivers racked his body all at once. It felt like he was falling apart. It felt-

"Boy!"

The youth started back to reality, surprised to find he had collapsed to his knees in that moment of weakness. He sagged back against the door, panting roughly as the world around him swayed for a moment before settling again. Then he realized a warm hand was resting on his shoulder and it wasn't his.

"Don't!" The teen balked, shielding away from the Russian's touch, but then the world lurched again and Peter suddenly found himself laying on his side, his back still to the door, but with no memory of falling. He groaned, trying to focus his eyes on the dangerous man he knew was right in front of him, but not quite managing to succeed as the nausea twisted viciously in his belly. He shuddered, knowing he was going to be sick and wishing he was just puke already so he could feel better. Then he man's voice came to him again.

"Boy please. Let me help."

Peter could feel the man close, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing... His limbs felt so heavy. So impossibly heavy. He groaned and let his eyes fall closed in an attempt to stop the sickly swaying of the room around him, but even in the darkness behind his eyelids it continued, making the ground feel like it was made up of rolling waves. He clenched his teeth as the nausea grew, but still refused to do anything more then make him suffer at it's presence. He hadn't known he could feel this bad and still be conscious- still be _alive_ and it just kept getting worse. A soft sob escaped Peter then a sudden light touch brushed against his forehead, making him flinched again with a low moan. "Noooo."

An exasperated sigh sounded on the air. “Do we really have to keep doing this?”

A flash of anger flared within Peter, grounding him again despite his miserable state. His eyes snapped opened then narrowed into slits as he glared at the man crouched before him. “I didn’t know we had done this before," he snarled, baring his teeth, but that display cost Peter what little strength he had left. Exhausted, the boy laid his cheek back down to the soft carpeted floor with a sigh, his vision blurring as his eyes struggled to focus. So tired... "Just leave me alone," he murmured blearily, his eyelids fluttering closed again in exhaustion.

Kraven sighed, running a hand over his face as he swore under his breath in frustration. They were not making any progress at all and the boy was running out of time. Still, the Russian could help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The kid had moxie, he had to give the youth that, but even so the man was more worried than ever. Even though the teen's bleeding seem to have stopped, he had still lost a lot for blood and the way he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness had the hunter very concerned. The big man was almost certain the boy had a concussion and a pretty bad one at that. Such a condition would explain the repetition of the boy's words and worries. Kraven remembered when he was tracking the boy that the trail signs had pointed to the teen losing his grip while climbing down into the sewers, leading to a bad fall. Seeing his injuries later, it was clear to the man that the brunet had hit his head in that fall and now combined with the kid hitting his head again minutes before in the bedroom, things were not looking great. Two hard blows to the head in less than twelve hours was never good. Taking a deep breath, the man then let it out slowly, forcing himself to regain his patience before his frustration made him to do something he would regret later. "Boy you need to let me-" Kraven began to say again, but Peter harshly cut him off.

"Fine. Whatever. Just whatever," Peter spat in frustration. Nothing was making sense. First this guy tried to kill him and now was claiming to want to help him. It simply made no sense and thinking about it just made his head hurt worse; as it was, he might throw up solely because of the throbbing pain in his brain, not to mention all the other hurts that were screaming throughout his body, compounding onto one another into a horrible chorus of agony. He just wanted to curl up and sleep so all of it would go away. The pain. The dark man. Everything just go away.

"I don't fucking care right now," the teen grumbled and somehow found the energy to carefully roll over, not putting any weight on his injured right shoulder and, in the process, turning his back to the hunter. "I just don't care," he whispered again, pulling the blankets defensively around him and tucking his knees up under his chin. Now that he thought about it, he realized the wound in his shoulder, which he had thought was the worse current wound inflicted upon him, had dulled down from a stabbing pain into an aching burn, but he wasn't sure if that was something to worry about or not. It might have been caused by his body healing or him becoming used to the pain, which weren't all that worrisome in themselves; but it could also likely be a loss of feeling from the blood loss and/or the severe damage, which was very worrisome if true. To make matters worse, as the pain of his wounds dulled, the agonizing pounding in his head amped up making him even more nauseous then before. Miserable, the boy sigh, rubbing his tired, aching eyes with his free hand as the headache pounded away inside his skull. This sucks.

"Boy-"

"Just go away," Peter huffed tiredly, hugging himself tighter. "I don't want to deal with you anymore."

"You know I can't leave," the man said almost apologetically, unwilling to abandon the teen before tending to his wounds properly.

Hearing the regret in the Russian's tone, the youth felt a small, totally irrational flare of pity for the man. "Okay... Let's just pretend I believe you," he finally said, relenting slightly as he tried to make sense of the strange situation he found himself in. "What's changed so drastically that make you no longer an enemy?" he said slowly, not bothering to roll back over to look at the man. It was almost easier to be rational as long as he did not have to look at the person who just hours ago had tried to kill him. Still it was so hard to make his tired aching mind think clearly.

“You," Kraven said bluntly in the simplest terms he knew how. "Or rather my knowledge of you," he rephrased after a moment, attempting to make the boy understand. "I had bad intel, boy. Moved too fast. Made mistakes," he sighed, bowing his head in shame at what he had done. "I did not know you were human."

"Human?" Peter blink in surprise, his shock momentarily chasing away his exhaustion as he lifted head and half turned to look at the man over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What else would I be?” he asked, ignoring the rush of dizziness that threatened to steal the little strength he had scrounged up from the bottom of his metaphoric barrel.

“It’s complicated." Kraven grimaced and rubbed his arm self-consciously, knowing how much those words sounded like a line, but he didn't have time to try and explain it all now. "Please we can discuss it later. I just-“

The room around Peter gave an sudden awful lurch and his hearing seemed to cut as his comprehension of Kraven's words vanished in a horrible instant of vertigo. The youth gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as his body curled up again into a tight ball with a soft whimper. Heat seemed to cascade through his body in scalding waves and he shuddered, knowing he had pushed himself too far and now was going to pay for it. He wished he could just pass out and get it over with, but his body wasn't quite done punishing him yet. Saliva flooded the teen's mouth as his stomach roiled and he felt bile serge up his throat, but he didn't have anything left in his belly to puke. Retching on the bit of stomach acid that forced its way up, Peter the gagged on the acrid taste as he automatically swallowed it back down, the fluid mercilessly burning the back of his throat. A miserable moan escaped him and he clutched his throbbing head between his hands, wishing he could just somehow... pass... out...

Next thing Peter knew he was lying on his back and the man was flashing a penlight in his eyes.

"Hey!" Peter flinched away, raising his arm to rest it on his forehead, shielding his eyes from the awful light. "Shit that hurts," he muttered, mentally cringing as the throbbing at his temples amped up into a pounding agony. It felt like someone was hammering on the inside of his head, trying to bust their way out of his skull. He couldn't even spare the extra brain power to think that he probably should have been scared that the bad man was kneeling right next to him. It simply hurt too much.

Kraven sighed, sitting back on his heels as worry creased over his face. He hadn’t realized how close the boy was to fainting because of his before talkativeness, but now it was clear the kid was worse off than he had thought, but that wasn't even the most worrisome part. The teen clearly had a concussion and with such an injury there was always a possibility of internal bleeding in the brain- No. The Russian shook his head, mentally chiding himself for being an alarmist. There were no signs that the youth had anything other than a moderate to severe concussion. If more symptoms presented later, he would deal with them then. For now he would just try to repair the damaged that were presenting now... IF the kid would ever let him.

"Boy you have a pretty bad concussion," Kraven said, voicing his thoughts to the teen as he clicked off the penlight and tucked the small flashlight into a back pocket before turning his full attention back to the boy. The furrows on his brow deepened at the sight of the limp, unresponsive teen and he leaned forward on his knees. "Hey, can you hear me? Boy?"

Peter dimly felt the hand on his unwounded shoulder, shaking him, but it all felt rather far-away; almost like it was happening to someone else. "Yah sure," he tried to say, but the words never quite made it past his lips. The sounds around him faded into nothing until he was left with only with the darkness behind his eyes, the distant hot pounding in his head and a soft feeling of swaying. No longer did the sickening vertigo and nausea rack his poor, wounded body; No, that all had been replaced by the gentle swaying, almost a floating feeling that was rather nice. It was kind of comforting, relaxing, coaxing him deeper into unconsciousness until he felt nothing more. 

 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally managed to forced another bit of this story out of my head and onto the paper. Hope you enjoy and please, PLEASE review.


	10. Chapter 10

Kraven's heart stopped as for one unbearable second he thought he had taken too long and the boy had died right there on the carpet in front of him. Adrenaline crashed through the man in a sudden panic and he urgently grabbed the youth by his uninjured shoulder, calling out to him, desperately trying to get him to wake up. Then, as quickly as it had come upon him, the irrational panic ebbed again as the kid groaned and shifted in an unconscious attempt to get away from the annoyance that was bothering his rest.

The Russian froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared in shock at the brunet's motion then he sat back on his haunches with a tight sigh, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. The corner of his mouth dipped down in a slight frown as he realized his hands were shaking slightly from the spent adrenaline and nerves and he forced himself to close his eyes and sit still for a second as he tried to relax and reground himself. He hadn't realized dealing with the teen had amped him up so much, but, he had to admit, for a second there... just for a second he had honestly believed with every fiber of his being that the boy had died and he didn't know how he could have lived with himself if that had been true. He felt like he had lost a decade off his life in those tense moments, but now that wasn't the main issue. He had to get back to the matter at hand or the kid might really go and die on him. He couldn't have that. Calypso would kill him... if his own guilt didn't do him in first.

Letting a tense breath hiss out between his teeth, the man opened his eyes again and refocused on the boy lying before him. The teen was obviously still responsive so Kraven wasn't sure if the brunet had truly fainted from blood loss or if his drained body had simply forced a shutdown in an attempt to recover. Either way the man was torn between letting the kid rest and the worry that extended sleeping while concussed would make the teen fall into a coma. Still the Russian thought he could at least let the exhausted child sleep for a few hours, and, in the mean time, it would be easier to rebandaged his wounds while he was unconscious and unable to be difficult.

With that thought in mind, Kraven leaned forward and gently scooped the child, blankets and all, up into his arm, positioning himself carefully so he didn't jostle the boy's injured shoulder. He felt the teen shift against him with a soft moan as he lifted the youths body in his arms and he froze, his sharp eyes watching the boy for any signs of discomfort, but then the kid just let out a deep sigh and seemed to snuggled against the Russian's warm chest in his unconsciousness.

Kraven's face softened at the teens actions and he found himself wishing he could somehow dispel to childs fear of him, but that would have to be an issue for another time. For now he just needed to check the kid's wounds, rebadged him and figure out how he might be able to get some food and water into the teen when he woke again. Easy as cake right? Kraven sighed at the impossibility of his situation and hoped that Calypso would come home soon, knowing she would know what to do even as he was at a loss.

A small absent smile lit the man's features at the thought of his love, then, cradling the brunet's body close in his arm, he stood and moved back towards the bed, his mind focused on the task at hand.

**/\/\/\/\/\**

Peter’s consciousness flickered in the grey place in-between sleep and wakefulness where he was almost aware, he could almost think... But every thought that manifested in his mind was immediately snatched away from him only to be replaced by another, completely unrelated thought that would too be gone an instant later, lost in the swirling fog that seemed to surround him in that place that held with no sound or sight or feel within it.

The cycle repeated on and on, the teen unable to hold onto a single thought though he grasped desperately at them as they danced tauntingly by. Peter felt like he should be mad or at least annoyed by the endless flicker of awareness that wouldn’t let him rest in peace, but also refused to accomplish anything useful either; however he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He had a nagging, restless and faintly anxious sense that he should be... be... concerned/nervous/scared/PAIN/danger?/ _DANGER!_

The sudden flash of emotions pounded through Peter in one instant, overwhelming the boy’s senses and jerking him roughly closer to consciousness. The boy gasped as a hot yet cold shiver shuddered through his body in response to the sudden adrenaline surging through him; but the sense of danger had disappeared as quickly as all the other thoughts that had passed through him, scattering away as if on an invisible wind. But now... now he _could_ think. He didn’t know why, but he could if he really tried. Still it was hard and he was so tired. He didn’t want to struggled any more, but then why had he been scared a second before? It was so strange; it was almost as if his subconscious was trying to force him to wake, but he couldn’t remember why... So it couldn’t really matter, right?

The boy relaxed back with a sigh, reveling in the soft, fluffy warmth that seemed to surround him. It felt so nice, almost like he was lying on a cloud. Even his pain seemed to dissipate until it had almost disappeared. He could still feel it on the peripheries, waiting to make him suffer again later, but not right now. Right now there was just relief. Marvelous relief. He sighed again, feeling all the tension run out of his muscles. He had every intention of falling asleep, but then something... He was suddenly aware of something brushing over his right shoulder...?

Peter froze, tension snapping back into his body as his breath caught in his throat. The touch on his shoulder came again, soft, cool and slightly damp. He had to struggle not to flinch away. He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t... but someone was in the room with him. Someone-

A fresh flash of fear jerked Peter back to full consciousness with a gasp and his eyes instantly flickered open. Disoriented the teen’s gaze darted around his surroundings; he was lying in a bed, staring up at the ceiling and... and there was the bad man. The teens eyes locked on the stranger sitting in the chair beside the bed within which Peter lay. The hunter was turned away with his back to the youth and didn’t seem to be aware that he had woken yet, but it was only a matter of time.

The teen swallowed hard, dimly aware that his dry throat burned with the action, but he didn’t pay it any heed. Every iota of his attention was focused on the dangerous man. His mind screamed at him to run. To flee this person who had hurt him before, but he couldn’t. He _wanted_ to run, to at least get farther away from the stranger, but he just couldn’t seem to move.

Then the dark man started to turn back to him. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in fear and his body tensing almost painfully as the hunter twisted in the chair. For a second time seemed to slow as Peter’s thoughts raced frantically. The bad man was going to see him. He would see Peter was awake. Would- The man would- He had to move. He couldn’t, but he had to move. Now! Move NOW!

**/\/\/\/\**

_**THUMP!** _

Startled by the heavy noise, Kraven nearly jumped out of his skin and in the process almost dropped the delicate ceramic jar in his hands. Somehow he managed a fumbling recovery at the last second, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the precious item before he whirled to face the origin of the sound. The man’s eyes widened in disbelief as he caught sight of the boy sitting up with his back pressed hard against the headboard of the bed, his head low and his weary brown eyes staring accusingly at the Russian.

“You’re awake!”

The absurdly obvious statement escaped Sergei’s lips before he could stop himself; but, in all fairness, it was practically impossible for the boy to be awake so soon. The kid had all but bled out and at the very least should have slept for hours if not longer to recover. However, disregarding the normal laws of the universe, the boy was up and, ignoring the pale pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes, he did not looking half as bad as he should have under such conditions.

Relief flooded through the Kraven at the sight of the woken teen, but he also had a distinct impression that the boys consciousness was going to cause problems. He had just finished cleaning the youth’s shoulder wound (the cut on his side had somehow inexplicably disappeared) and had been mixing the antitoxic poultice for the boy, but now he had a feeling he would be lucky if he got the youth’s wound simply bandaged let alone properly tended to. The look the kid was giving him was pretty far from anything compliant, but at least the brunet wasn’t trying to hide under the bed again.

Sergei cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing with concern as he studied the teen more closely. The boy just sat there silently , staring back at him, but the man could see the kid was already panting lightly, rather flushed and slightly shaking, although the Russian could not tell if the last was caused by fear, exhaustion, pain or a combination of the three.

Worried that the flush might be the symptom of a fever, the man automatically leaned forward, wanting to test the temperature of the teen’s forehead, but as his hand reached out the boy shrunk away, his lips curling back with a warning snarl that escaped from bared teeth. Peter felt the growl rumble from deep within his chest and, under normal circumstances, would have thought he was being absurd - acting like a mad dog or something - but these were far from normal circumstances. He didn't know where he was and what the hell was going on, but he was completely certain he didn't want this dangerous man any close then he had to be.

Kraven froze at the sound of the boy's warning snarl. He might not have been very good among polite human society, but it was hard to misinterpret the boy’s primal action. It was a scared reaction, but also one that promised violence if the youth was pushed too far. Kraven could respect that, even admire the brunet’s bravery in the face of his certain fear, but the man had no wish for the violence the teens glare and tense posture promised so he pulled his hand back with an apologetic smile, twisting his wrist so his palm was up, turning the motion into a peaceful gesture.

“Easy child. You are in no danger here. I just wanted to check your temperature,” the man said gently as he settled back into the chair and set the ceramic jar and the precious antitoxin it held within it on the bedside table beside him, but the youth didn’t seem to notice his words. Instead the boy just stared at the hunter’s proffered hand, his own hands clutching the rich, heavy blankets to his chest. Then, in a flurry of nervous motion, the youth’s eyes darted to the wall of windows to his right then to the door behind Sergei, obviously searching for a possible exit, before the boy’s gaze jerked back to the man himself.

“Where am I? Where-“ The boy’s disoriented demand was cut off as he tried to sit up a bit straighter then flinched as his wounded shoulder obviously gave him a painful reminder of it’s presence. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden stab of pain before his left hand closed over the injury and he gritted his teeth, a low moan escaping him.

“Careful!” Kraven was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, his mind singularly focused on the desperate knowledge that the boy could not afford to open that wound again. Not if he wanted to live. The hunter found himself again automatically reaching forward, this time to check to see if the teen’s bleeding had started again, then he remembered himself as the boy’s eyes widened fearfully at the sight of him looming over the bed and the youth jerked away from his touch with a strangled cry.

Kicking himself for his thoughtless action, Sergei backed off immediately, sitting back in the chair with both hands up and palms out in surrender. “Just... careful, okay?” he said a bit sheepishly, his brow’s drawing together with concern even though he could not see nor scent any fresh blood. “You don’t want to open that wound again.”

A long moment passed and the boy just continued to stare at him with wide fearful eyes. For a couple gut-wrenching heartbeats Kraven thought he had screwed everything up again, that the boy was going to make another run for it, get hurt again and that would be that; but then the teen’s body gave a great shudder and he sighed, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around himself as the tension that had been trapped within his body eased out of his overworked muscles.

Suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath; Kraven echoed the teen’s sigh with one of his own; the soft sound making the boy glance up through his disheveled hair, sharp eyes glaring wearily at the man sitting bare feet from him.

Kraven tried to smile reassuringly, but didn’t get much of a response. The boy just blinked at him and continued to stare through his bangs.

Shifting uncomfortably in the awkward silence, the Russian decided to switch tactics. “Will you let me finished bandaging that?” he asked hopefully, nodding vaguely to the boy’s shoulder as he said the words, thinking that asking for permission might get a better response from the teen.

But silence was all that he received.

Kraven sighed tiredly, running a hand up over his face and through his hair as the spark of hope that had lit within him flickered and died under the brunet's continued glare. He mentally cursed himself for being right, but there was no doubt about it now: having the boy conscious was going to be an inexorable pain in the butt. And the truth of the matter was it was all his fault. Under the circumstances, the teens fear and distrust were only natural. No sane person would not be scared of someone who had stalked and stabbed them. But all that had been a mistake. A horrible mistake. Kraven wished he could make the boy understand that, but even if he couldn't, even if the child never stopped fearing him, it was his duty to tend to the injuries he had inflicted on the boy. He just wished he could find some way to do that without traumatizing the brunet further.

Gathering himself for another hopeless attempt to reason with the child, the Russian looked up again then he blinked, startled, as he realized the boy's attention had shifted away from him and... Kraven fallowed the teen's gaze, his own eyes settling on the ceramic bowl, bloody cotton balls, bandages and other miscellaneous medical supplies scattered upon the bedside table. Interesting...The big man raised his head to look back at the boy. The youth's eyes had narrowed and his brow was furrowed in thought; Kraven could practically see the teen's mind trying to work through some problem. He started to open his mouth to speak, but just then the brunet decided to break the silence himself.

“What's that?”

"Uh..." the hunter said dumbly, caught off-guard by the youths unexpected words and feeling suddenly pinned under the teens gaze as it flicked up to lock onto him again, waiting and expectant. Kraven glanced back at the pile of medical supplies, but then looked back at the boy, his brow knitting together in confusion, unsure of what the boy was talking about. “What's what?”

“ _That_ ," the boy said, his eyes jerking meaningfully down to the ceramic jar on the bedside table before flicking back up to the man again. “What is it?”

A small breath of relief escaped the man as the teen responded to his question. It seemed as if the child was at least coherent and would stay relatively calm as long as he didn't get too close, which was a start. Maybe they could get somewhere after all...

"This?" the man asked, picking up the ceramic jar to confirm the item of the boy's curiosity.

The kid's jaw tightened visibly at the man's action and he gave a jerky nod, his eyes glued to the small item.

Kraven smiled gently, trying to relieve some of the boy's obvious tension and tipped the delicate ceramic forward in his hands so the boy could see the dark gooey contents within. “It’s a poultice," he said softly, not wanting to accidentally spook the child again. "I'm assuming that is what you are asking."

“Is that what you put on me before?” the teen demanded, his sharp hazel eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence, but even so the man could still see pain, fatigue and distrust deep within them.

“Yes," Kraven answered carefully and clearly, hoping to gain a bit of trust from the child. "To help you heal.”

The man barely finished his sentence before the boy's hand shot out. “Let me see."

The Russian blinked, surprised by the strength in the teen's voice. His words were obviously not a request, but the hunter still hesitated, unsure of what would happen if he gave the boy what he wanted, but also absolutely certain the teen would react negatively if he was denied.

The man sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with the impossible situation, but then he gave in and handed the object over to the youth's waiting hand. He half expected the boy to immediately shatter the jar on the floor or throw it against a wall, but instead the teen just studied it carefully, then lifted it to take a cautious sniff at it's contents.

Kraven opened his mouth to warn the boy, but it was already too late. The teen winced and then sneezed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "God. It smells awful," he said, rubbing an arm under his nose as if he could ward off the poultices scent. "What's it made of?”

“I could list the ingredients, but you would not know them," the Sergei said with an apologetic smile, honestly surprised the teen was being so talkative, albeit in short spurts.

The boy frowned at the man's words and turned his dark glare on Kraven again.

“They are very rare, boy," the Russian said, trying to appease the child, but the youth's frown just deepened into a scowl.

“If they are so rare, how did you get them?” the teen snapped, frustrated by the man's evasions. Why did this bastard have to make everything a riddle?!

“I did not," Sergei said calmly, forcing himself to answer the brunet's questions even though he knew he should have been focusing on caring for the kid's injury instead. There was a chance, albeit a slight one, that the child would allow him to help if he satisfied the teens question so he continued to answer and tried not to think of the youths bare wound that needed attention. "Calypso made it for you.”

A sudden wash of excitement flooded through Peter's blood at the simple sound of the strange woman's name and the thoughts of her that it provoked. The teen felt his cheeks warm and he looked down, embarrassed by the nonsensical reaction. Hurriedly, he tried to quash the growing elation within him. He didn’t have time to act like a moon-struck floosy, but even so the feelings resist him, defiantly settled into a warm flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Peter mentally grimaced, trying to shake off the giddy thrill singing within him, and eyed the jar in his hands warily. After a moment he looked back up to consider the man again. “You say this stuff will help my shoulder?”

“Yes," Kraven said, hoping a simple answer would be more persuasive than a long, complicated explanation, but the boy looked thoroughly unconvinced and underwhelmed.

“It has before,” the man continued with just a touch of desperation in his voice. It would be so much better in all respects if he could somehow convince the teen to use the salve. He opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but then shut it again, doubting that anything else he could say could truly sway the teen's one way or another.

Peter grunted noncommittally at the man's words, his thoughts already elsewhere at the stared at the ceramic pot in his hands. Despite the dull headache that had settled between his temples, he mentally directed his senses, searching for any hint of danger, but could feel nothing threatening connected to the salve. If it could truly help...

Seeing that the teen was teetering on the edge of an decision, Kraven watched the boy silently, unwilling to break into the youths thoughts. Then, to the man's astonishment, the boy dipped a hand into the concoction, rubbing his the thick gooey substance between his fingers experimentally before lifting them to smeared a dab cautiously over his injured shoulder.

Peter winced, mentally cringing as the cold salve touched his skin, but he continued to spread it over the edge of his wound, waiting to see if there would be a negative reaction before committing himself fully to using the poultice.

“It may sting," Kraven said hurriedly, getting his voice back after the initial shock of the teen's actions.

“I remember," the boy said bitterly, idly mixing the salve with a finger as he waited to see if there would be any ill effect.

Kraven lips flashed in a apologetic smile. “I’m sure you do," he said a bit sheepishly, remembering how adverse the teen's initial reaction had been to his 'treatment.' The man suddenly found himself wondering what the boy actually remembered from the night before. The youth had been pretty out of it by the time Sergei had caught up with him. The hunter winced mentally at the memory, finding himself grateful that the brunet was calm enough now to talk. It was obvious the teen was still nervous around him, but at least the boy finally seemed to be willing to do something more then run. Honestly, it was incredible he had recovered so much in such a short time. He had been unconscious for less than an hour, but it seemed to have helped immensely.

Peter in turn gave the man a sour glare at his words. The boy was extremely reluctant to trust this dark stranger. Who wouldn't be after being beaten and stabbed? But, truth be told, nothing detrimental had been caused by the salve thus far so maybe the man really was telling the truth. Or maybe it was simply smelly useless goo that wouldn't harm _or_ help him. Still, even if that were the case, it wouldn't do any damage if he used it either and maybe... Maybe it really would help...

Sighing, the teen scooped up another glob of the poultice out of the jar and applied it generously to his wounded shoulder. With the injurys position, he couldn't really get a good look at it, but he could feel the inflamed skin around the wound and he had to struggle not to flinch when he accidentally pressed down too hard on a sore spot. The injury was obviously irritated and tender to the touch and its location definitely wasn’t ideal. He grimaced slightly as he gently probed the edges of the wound, trying to figure out its exact position. It seemed as if the knife had stabbed through the muscle below his right shoulder joint and a couple inches left of his armpit. As Peter's mind catalogued that knowledge, he realized how lucky he had been that the knife hadn’t hit bone and even luckier that it had not sliced through a major blood vessel, knowing there was a cluster of them right around the neck and shoulder area. He had been really lucky so far, if one could called not dying from a stab wound lucky. It would have been better not to be stabbed at all, but that didn't matter anymore. It was in the past and there was nothing that could be done to change it. What truly mattered now was if he was still in danger or not.

Peter's eyes slid wearily back to the dark man seated beside the bed then he started, feeling a gentle tingling spread over his shoulder as the salve warmed with his body heat, numbing the pain. The teen's brow knitted in confusion as he realized the concoction didn't burn as it had done before. The man had said it was the same poultice, but then why...?

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Kraven smiled slightly at the surprised tone of the boy's words. “You’re wound has closed child. The poultice wouldn’t have stung as badly as it did before." The man sat back in the chair, his arm crossing over his chest as he studied the teen critically. "Honestly I have no idea how it has heal so fast," he added after a moment with a shake of his head. "You were bleeding like a stuck pig just a bit ago.”

Peter grunted, but didn’t offer any further information even though the man was clearly curious. Instead the brunet turned his attention back to his injury, experimentally curling his right hand into a fist then flexing and extending his arm, testing for pain. Luckily there was none. In fact the only thing the teen felt was the warm tingling of the salve. Obviously the goop was doing something although he had no clue exactly what. He only hoped his senses would have warned him if it was something dangerous.

Lost in thought, the teen found himself staring numbly at his hand and blinked. He looked hurriedly back up, but the man hadn't moved. He was just sitting there watching Peter and the boy couldn't help but notice the lines of worry around his eyes. Maybe the youth was just imagining it but...

Peter sighed and shook away the stray thoughts; his head hurt too much for all this crap. What he really needed was more sleep, but now that he was awake he felt somehow too tired for sleep (not that he would ever willingly sleep in this man's presence). He was too tired to even be scared anymore. He just felt wrung out and... and numb. It almost felt like he was disconnected from the rest of the world and was just going through the motions of living. Even stranger, he felt detached from his own body as if he were somehow viewing himself from afar and nothing really mattered anymore...

Maybe I'm in shock, the brunet wondered wearily. He had read about physical and emotional shock caused by trauma on the internet, but he had never really felt like this before. Sure he had felt pain and had even almost died once before, but it had never been like this. The overpowering elation he had experienced earlier when the woman's name was spoken simply underscored how dead he felt inside now. Almost cold. Everything seemed so unreal; like it was all happening to someone else. Here he was sitting in a plush penthouse that would have cost a fortune in New York with this _man_ -

Was he even still in New York? a corner of Peter's mind suddenly wondered. He cocked his head to the side, considering the windows. The view certainly looked like it could be New York, but it was hard to tell without closer inspection. Of course it could be a trick. The view could be faked, but... Hmmm. The teen narrowed his eyes in thought. His blood was still on the windows, brilliant red splashed against the backdrop of a clear, sunny day. He knew he should have felt something at the sight, but he just didn't. He knew he should. Hell he was injured, in a strange place and at the mercy of a stranger who had fucking stabbed him; he should be feeling a lot. All of this should have at least _bothered_ him, but for some reason it didn’t. Not really. He knew that wasn’t right, but-

Movement in his peripheral vision startled Peter out of his numb thoughts and he looked around, his eyes falling back to the man sitting beside him.

The man's eyes twitched down to the medical supplies in his hands, then back up at the boy with a nervous look. “Uh... will you let me...” he said, holding up the items, which included a roll of bandages, some medical tape and a gauze pad. It was obvious the stranger wanted to bind Peter's wound. 

The youth scowled half-heartedly at the man's suggestion, but he couldn't bring himself to put much feeling behind the expression. The boy was rather confused about his own apathetic feelings. He should have been scared or at the very least worried, but he wasn't. In fact, couldn't remember another time when he so absolutely just didn't care. All things told, it was almost a relief, but it was also a troublesome development. He _never_ 'just didn't care.' It wasn't him. So why... why did he feel so empty?

The boy looked on with hollow eyes as the man's shoulder's sagged with a sigh. “Will you at least bandage yourself?” the hunter said resignedly.

Peter glanced blankly down at supplies sitting engulfed in the dark man's large palms.

"Please boy," the Russian entreated and lifted his hand a little, his eyes pleading.

The youth's gaze shifted back to the dark man, his eyes searching for any sign of a trick or ill will, but there was none. Even his dormant sense stayed quiet, refusing to mark the stranger as a threat, but even so Peter hesitated. He knew the man was dangerous, the stab wound in his shoulder attested to that, so why? What game was this... this hunter playing at?

The boy frowned, but then relented, delicately plucking the medical supplies from the man's hand. He half expected the man to make a grab for him, but the stranger just sat back again, his eyes watching expectantly.

With another sullen frown the teen sat up a bit straighter and set to work. He didn't trust the dangerous man, but that was no reason to neglect a wound if the opportunity arose to tend to it. With deft fingers the boy gently taped the gaze pad over his injury then began binding his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the bandage roll had the audacity to run out of length behind Peter's back. The boy twisted, raising his arms in an attempt to properly tuck away the loose end then winced as the position invariably pulled at his wound. A hiss of pain escaped him and he lowered his arms, waiting for the throbbing in his shoulder to ease before trying again, but a gentle touch on his arm distracted him.

Peter flinched away from the contact, his head whipping around to stare at the bad man over his shoulder, pinning the hunter with an icy glare.

Kraven met the boys cold eyes with a tired smile, his own reserves nearing depletion as caring for the boy exhausted him emotionally. Physically he could stay awake for days hunting pray or caring for a wounded animal, but he had never had to tend to a human before and was quickly finding it was quite a grueling prospect. The fact that the boy feared and distrusted him (albeit with good reason) didn't help. Still he had every intention of doing right by the child. He owed the kid that much. “Can I finish that for you?” he said softly, nodded to the teens bandages.

Peter stared at the hunter for a long moment. He _still_ could not feel any danger from the dark mans presence, but he couldn't bring himself to trust the stranger either. Then the man spoke again.

"I am not going to hurt you, boy." And there was nothing, but an honest desire to help in the hunters eyes.

Peter's brow furrowed, his mind and instincts warring within him as he studied the stranger cautiously. His mind said no - _hell_ no, but his instincts...

For a long moment Kraven thought the boy would deny him, but then the teen looked away, turning slightly so the Russian could have access to his back.

The man reached out, taking the dangling tail of the roll in his hand and gently, but securely tucking the end into the layers of gauze.

Peter twitched at the hunters touch, his breath catching in his throat, but the man did nothing more then what he said he would, his fingers carefully finishing the binding. The boy found himself surprised by the softness of the mans touch. It was hard to believe such big, calloused hands could ever be gentle and yet his were. So gentle. Gliding over his skin like a whisper then pulling back-

Peter gasped, his thoughts breaking off abruptly as he felt something inside him suddenly crack. Then the icy shell he had unconsciously build around his mental self burst, shattering to bare his vulnerable inner being. The boy's eyes flew wide as emotion came flooding back into him like a wave of lava, the cold that had deadened him fleeing the searing heat that threatened to shatter the boys world forever in an unbearable rush of fire. He could feel everything. Feel- oh _god_. Peter choked on a sob, tears pricking at his eye as all the fear, anguish and terror of the night before came rushing in. For a moment the teen thought the dark stranger had set of his spidy-sense, but no. His emotions had simply caught up with him in a single roaring torrent that felt like it was going to crush him under its immensity. He couldn't breathe under its weight. Couldn't- The boy mentally shied away from the inner turmoil, but it followed him doggedly, denying him relief. Everything felt raw, emotion like acid racing through him, burning him, tearing him up inside. The youth shuddered, hugging himself tightly as if he could somehow keep himself from falling apart as the numbness of shock receded and the tears came pouring out. I can't do this. I can't- It's too much. The brunet swallowed hard, his dry throat burning sharply as tears streamed down his cheeks. Please I... Help me... 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I couldn't come up with a name for this chapter that started with 'H,' but I had the content done so I figured you wouldn't mind if I uploaded it without a title for now and come back and put one in later. I hope that's not too much of a problem. I'm also perfectly happy to take suggestions, but be warned: I'm picky... and there's the added problem that a lot of the 'good' words are already earmarked for future chapters. Anyway, I'm really happy to be able to get another chapter done this month (I know, I know. The chapter for 'Alien' was technically Oct 31st, but it's close enough that I'm counting it). I've also figured out that, funnily enough, one of the best time for me to write is when I have homework I really ought to be doing. Go figure ;P 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and, as always, I'd love to hear from you. Please, please take a second and review.


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